


This is the Hunt

by LizzieBowen18



Series: In the shadow of a broken frame [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adorable Isaac Lahey, Alan Deaton Being an Asshole, Allison Argent & Lydia Martin Friendship, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, BAMF Erica Reyes, BAMF Stiles, Banshee Lydia Martin, Blood and Violence, Dark Alan Deaton, Derek Hale & Scott McCall Friendship, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale's Past Consent Issues with Kate Argent, Does this count as a fix-it?, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, Gen, Gerard Argent Being an Asshole, Good Friend Allison Argent, Good Guy Chris Argent, Good Parent Sheriff Stilinski, Good Peter Hale, Hale Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Morally Grey Characters, No cryptic bullshit is this house, Not Beta Read, Peter Hale & Claudia Stilinski Friendship, Post-Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Protective Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Sane Peter Hale, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Slow Build Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & Jackson Whittemore Friendship, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Nemeton is important dammit, The author is a MAJOR asshole, Warning: Gerard Argent, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves, apart from when I feel like it, everyone is hurt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:20:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26971294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzieBowen18/pseuds/LizzieBowen18
Summary: The Nemeton is tired, death and destruction have painted its roots red.Perhaps it was time it did a bit of interference instead...
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: In the shadow of a broken frame [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968358
Comments: 109
Kudos: 174





	1. A lone wolf howls

**Author's Note:**

> I'm officially throwing the show timeline in a blender, and then flushing it down the toilet. 
> 
> Some things which are cannon will happen, but this story is a massive overhaul based on how I think the story should have gone.
> 
> TBH this is mostly because I'm annoyed by the crap writing surrounding the Hales & Argents. They were always fascinating, as a result my thoughts snowballed and ended here.
> 
> Enjoy!

In hindsight, Stiles was willing to admit that dragging her asthmatic friend into the woods to find a dead body was a terrible idea.

When they had set out from Scott's house it had seemed like it would be an interesting adventure, but _nooo_. They hadn't found it yet, and this was somehow her fault. Scott was acting like she'd forced him out of bed at gun point, not shown up at his house and flailed her arms around while chattering excitedly about corpses and trees.

Tripping on another root, Stiles stops walking to lean on the tree which is closest to her. Breathing deeply in an attempt to calm her steadily rising temper. 

_Don't scream, don't scream, don't scream_. _Screaming bad._

"Stiles?"

Glancing up she takes in the concerned face of her best friend. 

"Yeah."

"You okay?"

Smiling weakly she nods. "Yeah, just tired. The time hit me I guess," she said. "You up for some more walking?"

"Sure." Scott's easy acceptance makes her shoot a bright smile at him, feeling a sharp spike of guilt for her cruel thoughts, before she steps forward... and falls.

A startled shout being ripped from her, as she rolls down the hill they were stood on. Coming to a stop several moments later dazed, and aching. 

Groaning she sits up, head pounding, arms scratched to pieces, and back covered in mud. "Great," she mutters. Huffing when she twists her arm and sees the deep cut stretching from her shoulder to her elbow. Wincing she quickly looks away, _not good. Nope, don't faint. Shit..._

"Stiles!" Scott's concerned voice echoes down at her.

"I'm okay," she shouts back. _Well, mostly._ Standing unsteadily she glances around taking in the dark misty trees. Ignoring the sticky blood she can feel dripping down her arm, she turns around. Freezing when she sees the body laid out on the ground in front of her.

"scott," she whispers. Throat closing as pain and panic start to rush through her. "SCOTT!" She screams. Hearing him distantly crash down the hill behind her. Coming to a stop next to her, she knows when he spots the woman because he starts retching.

Unable to look away Stiles stands transfixed by the awful scene. Pretty in a sad way, the young woman stretched out in front of them looks almost peaceful... asleep. However the deep gash under her chin, going from ear to ear disabuses that image. It is a slash of scarlet next to snow white skin which makes a startling contrast, her chocolate hair spread out like a curtain on the forest floor under her.

Completely alone, in the woods. Alive, at most five minutes after being injured. _shut up._ She'd have been conscious for some of it. _S_ _hut up._ She'd have felt the blood gushing from her body. _SHUT UP._

There's a hand gripping her arm, an anchor to keep her from drifting away in the fog.

"...tiles, stiles, Stiles!" Blinking slowly, Stiles turns to look at Scott.

Opening her mouth to try and say something she chokes on air, a deep keening sound breaking forth. As she collapses into his chest, heaving, dry sobs leaving her.

In between the messy cries she forces out "Laura. It's... Laura." 

Looking up she sees Scott has frozen in shock at her reaction. Giving in to her pain she burrows her face back in his chest, as she shakes. 

"Stiles?" Scott's hand comes up against the cut on her arm making her wince. His voice is concerned, warm, familiar. It makes her cling to him more, seeking comfort in her oldest friend.

"Stiles. We have to go," he says. Using the same coaxing voice she's heard him use with the wounded animals brought in to the clinic. Shaking her head in denial, she whines when he tries to pull away.

Grabbing her wrists gently, he tugs them away from his shirt. Before taking hold of her face and making her look at him.

"Breathe with me. Okay. I know you knew her, and this hurts. But you have to breathe, and we have to go" Scott says softly. Eyes kind and understanding, it makes Stiles think back to when they'd stood in a similar position after her mum's funeral.

Focusing on his face, she slowly starts matching him, hiccuping as she forces herself to not look back at... at the woman.

"Good. You're doing it. I knew you could, now I'm going to let go of you so I can get my inhaler. Will you be fine with standing on your own?" He asks soothingly. Smiling encouragingly when Stiles nods stiffly.

Letting go, she watches as he reaches into his pocket and removes the inhaler. Quickly taking a puff before reaching back for her. Slumping into his side, she suddenly feels exhausted. Her eyes beginning to droop. 

"Hey. Hey, Stiles. You can't fall asleep on me okay. We gotta get back to Roscoe," Scott says. Starting to lead Stiles away from Laura, whispered praise passing his lips when she starts pulling away from him to walk by herself.

Reaching the top of the hill, they sit down. Leaning on the same tree Stiles had earlier.

Head on Scott's shoulder Stiles soaks in his warmth, huffing when he nudges her with a whispered 'you good to keep going' in her ear.

Starting to stand, she quickly sits back down (dragging Scott with her) when she hears footsteps at the base of the hill, by the body.

Glancing at her friend, checking that he's out of sight of whoever is down there, she nods to herself when she sees he's hidden. Turning slightly she peeks out from behind the tree, trying to spot the person below them.

Breathe catching in her throat, she stares in shock at the man stooped over Laura's body.

Adam?

_What the hell was he doing._

Stiles watches completely rapt, as he searches all of Laura's pockets. Taking bits and pieces, while simultaneously seeming to catalogue her injuries.

Pulling out a radio he starts talking, she strains to hear, catching snippets. "...lone...not many signs of injury...wolf?...be a problem."

Turning back to Scott she taps his shoulder, gesturing in the general direction they have to head to get to Roscoe when she gets his attention. Seeing him nod, she mouths 'on three'.

_One._

Blood rushes to her ears.

_Two._

Is that a growl?

_Three._

RUN.

Launching forward she tugs Scott after her, just as a massive wolf crashes out of a cluster of trees near them, and races towards Adam.

Refusing to turn and watch the bloodbath happening behind her, Stiles tries to ignore the fading screams of agony. Cursing internally as her overactive imagination conjures images of the horrifying way in which the man was dying.

Sprinting forward she feels a shout leave her when she glances to her right and sees that Scott has disappeared.

_SHIT._

Coming to a stop in a clearing she remembers as being near the old Hale house, she freezes when she hears the warning growl echo behind her.

Blood run cold, she doesn't think.

Just runs.

* * *

Crashing through the trees she is almost at the steps of the Hale house when she's knocked over by the massive beast.

Stiles tries to crawl towards the building, only collapsing onto her front when she hears the surprisingly soft footsteps of the wolf come up behind her. 

_It had herded her here._

Rolling onto her back she locks eyes with the creature, freezing when she sees its eyes are red. _Demonwolf._ Swallowing nervously, she tries to shift backwards. Ceasing the movement immediately when the wolf's lip curls angrily at her action.

Staring at it wide eyed she nearly misses it lunging forward.

The pain. That she can't miss.

Her side burns instantly as its teeth latch on to her, sinking into her flesh so easily you'd think there was nothing there.

Screaming louder than she ever has before in her life, Stiles feels sick.

It. Bit. her.

_shit. shit. shit._

Fat tears roll down her cheeks as she feels her side become slick with blood, painting the dirt under her a deep maroon.

Whimpering she shifts slightly, a agonized cry ripping its way past her lips at the movement.

Looking up she sees the beast watch her with a tilted head, disturbingly similar to the puppies she remembers seeing in the clinic.

Just as she thinks it's going to finish her off, it instead turns and races back into the woods.

Leaving her alone, outside the burnt out old husk of the Hale house.

Rapidly slipping into the dark abyss of unconsciousness with a lone wolf's howl playing behind her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an interesting challenge.  
> How do you convey the mind boggling terror of being hunted?  
> I hope everyone likes the chapter, personally I adored writing the internal snark which filters through Stile's mind. 
> 
> Speaking of challenge: trying not to look like a psycho murderer, when you're searching the internet for how long it takes a person to die from a slashed throat. I failed. They don't put that in the 'beginner writers kit'.


	2. A far from normal day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the people who have read chapter one!  
> It makes me ecstatic to know people are enjoying the story so far!
> 
> Warning this chapter:  
> The Hale house fire is described.

It's the light streaming in from the open window which eventually wakes Stiles, making her squint angrily as she blinks the world into focus.

Groggy, she slowly shifts into a sitting position; taking in the worn down room as she moves so her back is leaning on the mound of pillows which were by her head. Closing her eyes as she sighs, exhausted by the previous day, she doesn't notice the young man stood in the doorway. Only snapping her gaze to him when he coughs lightly.

Taking in the slightly hunched shoulders, black sweater, and serious murder brows. It takes a beat to register that she's looking at Derek Hale.

Ducking her head in embarrassment for gawking, Stiles winces when her bandaged side aches. Her hand coming up instinctively to cover the wounded area. _Ow._

"You okay."

Looking up Stiles jumps in surprise when she sees that he is now stood next to the bed. "Wha..." coughing to clear her throat, she looks away from his stupidly gorgeous face. A shy nod being the only answer she is willing to give, refusing to embarrass herself further through babbling.

A water bottle suddenly hovering in her line of sight, shifts her focus from cataloguing all the ways she's already failed at making a good impression. _Number one being that she turned up half dead in front of his house_.Looking at the man holding the bottle, she says a soft 'thanks'. Quickly guzzling down most of the water in it, only realising afterwards how thirsty she had been.

"How did I get here? I mean... not here, here. I'm guessing you took me to bed... wait, no. Dude, please ignore that." she rambles quickly. Groaning in embarrassment as she hears Derek snort in amusement at her verbal barrage.

Face burning, she slaps her hands over her mouth. _Shit. Not cool, at all._

Smirking Derek says "I came back just as you passed out, carried you in here. Patched you up."

Swallowing nervously Stiles shoots him a small smile.

"Well, thanks. it would have sucked ass to die in the middle of the woods," she says. Wincing when she sees him frown. _His family died out here you idiot._ "Oh god, I'm so sorry. Forget I said anything, in fact I'll leave then you won't have to deal with me."

Getting up to do just that, she just about squeaks when her side flares. "Shit!"

Collapsing back she whimpers. "New plan. I'm moving never, sorry not sorry, you have a new roommate."

Frowning slightly Derek tugs her shirt up, making Stiles flail her arms. "Dude no bad touch. Ask before removing my shirt."

Under the full might of his murder brows, _how does he do that,_ she shuts up. 

"You're bleeding. Don't move."

"Sure thing, I'll stay completely still." She says, nodding enthusiastically to emphasise her point.

Watching as he gets up and leaves the room, ignoring her shouted question of 'where are you going.' Huffing she lies down properly, regretting waking up thoroughly. Just as her eyes start to close again she feels the bed droop. Drawing her focus back to the silent man.

Gentler than she'd think possible, he removes her bandages. Efficiently and effortlessly cleaning the bite, taking special care with the reopened areas.

Biting her lip to keep a whimper down, Stiles screws her eyes closed. Head tipped back into the pillows to ignore the bloody mess.

Hearing a rumbling sound, she blinks in surprise when her side suddenly stops burning. Looking up at Derek, just catching a hint of the pleased expression which had been on his face while he was working. Confused at what he'd done to help the pain she looks down, only to squawk in shock when she spots the black veins on the hand touching her side.

Head snapping between his face and weird sight she feels her eyes widening.

"What. The. Fuck?"

"Pain drain." He says. Which yeah _vague._

"Dude..." Stiles whispers, knocked off pace by the serious curve-ball superpowersbeing _real_ were to her world perception.

"I'm a werewolf."

"We...werewolf?" She repeats faintly _._ "As in howl at the moon, wolf man once a month WEREWOLF?"

"Yes."

"Huh, okay. That... that's good to know."

The blank look which takes over Derek's face at her easy acceptance, makes Stiles smile slightly. 

"How are you so calm," he asks. Head tilted to the side like a massive, broody puppy.

"Rampant compartmentalisation."

"Explain."

"I'll freak out later. Now is a bad time to have a break down over the fact that I'm talking to a dude who turns into Clifford the big bad wolf once a month."

"Don't call me dude."

"Seriously? That's what you take away from what I just said, not my amazing reference." Stiles pouts, annoyed at the lack of proper banter.

"Says the girl who just compared a werewolf to a children's book character."

"I'm special like that."

"I noticed."

"I feel like there's an insult in there, that I'm just not picking up on."

"You're right," he says smirking. _The bastard._

Squinting angrily she tries to copy his scowl, only realising afterwards that it'll look ridiculous without a set of murder brows. _Damn._ He really got an intimidation buff simply due to genetics... _unfair._

Sighing Stiles breaks eye contact, looking at the bed sheets frowning. Idly her hand brushes her side, the bandages reminding her what led to the bite.

Paranoid realisation floods through her.

"I'm one too aren't I?"

"Yes."

Breathing in shakily Stiles nods absently, an icy numbness spreading from her chest down into her gut. She wasn't fully human anymore.

"I have to get home."

Looking at the concerned face of the Hale sat beside her, she feels like weeping. He's just lost his sister, and here Derek's stuck playing nurse to a nosy teen.

"You're still healing. It isn't safe for you to drive yet." Derek says frankly.

"Well you do it then. I'm going home." Stiles insists huffily, crossing her arms when it looks like he's going to protest.

"Fine, but if you bleed out I'm not explaining to the sheriff why his underage, injured, daughter died on my watch."

"Deal."

* * *

Sinking into the depths of the steamy bath Stiles immediately filled upon stumbling inside her home, she regrets leaving the company of the pain leech.

Closing her eyes, she lets her mind drift. Breathing in the soft aroma of lavender as she soaks, floating rapidly into a world of impossibility and mist. Eyes flickering open briefly, they widen in shock when she sees the water a deep burgundy color... blood.

Arms flailing she tries to get out of the bath, only to collapse back when a hot burn tears through her gut. Glancing down she sees a dagger sticking out of her stomach, digging in far enough she wonders if it's passed through her.

Stiles contemplates screaming just as something tugs her head under.

Her muffled shriek transforming into a bubble as she tries to keep her airways clear.

Struggling to the surface, she realizes she's no longer in her bath. Instead floating in a lake located in the preserve. Swimming towards the shore she looks around, taking in the huge tree stood proudly watching over the peaceful area. It's beautiful.

Climbing out of the lake, she cautiously approaches it.

Her small smile transforming into a grimace of horror when the tree bursts into flames on contact with her hand. Stumbling backwards Stiles can do nothing but watch as the magnificent nature surrounding her withers, dies due to neglect.

The once proud guardian tree cut down into nothing but a stump.

Blinking to clear her eyes of the tears building, she watches as the scene melts into another. 

_What the hell?_

Hell seems an accurate description, it's the Hale house... burning.

Screams echo out from the window leading to the basement, and Stiles can do nothing but watch as a woman taunts the suffering family slowly roasting.

Running up the other side of the building she spots a window, banging on it desperately. trying to change the outcome she knows is inevitable.

Miraculously someone seems to notice her. 

It's a frazzled looking man.

Young, strong.

Weary, resigned.

He's hugging a young girl.

Making his way towards the window he shields the girl from the worst of the flames, scrambling to open it. A flaming beam falls on his shoulder, drawing a startled scream from him. Gritting his teeth he braces, and pushes as Stiles pulls, working together until the window opens enough to allow a small child to slip out. 

Eyes meeting he nods at her, lifting the child up; Stiles quickly pulling her out of the opening.

Checking the girl for injuries she sighs in relief when she sees the lack of sever burns.

Looking back down at the people stuck in the basement she shifts, trying desperately to tug the window open further. Crying out in frustration when it won't budge. Lashing out at it with a violent punch.

A hand touching her arm gently, breaks her from her furious beating on the glass.

Startled she looks into the understanding face of the man.

He's beautiful, crying. The others huddled behind him stare at her with wide hollow eyes.

They all know they're going to die.

They don't deserve their fate.

Pushing her, more a nudge than anything, he steps back. Giving her a small smile, gratefulness lining every inch of his face, before he turns back to the others.

Stiles can do nothing but watch helplessly as the house collapses around the people she failed to save.

* * *

Gasping she comes to, blinking water from her eyes as she coughs violently.

The bath water is cold, and she feels empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVED writing this chapter. Perhaps it was the addition of Derek and Peter (they deserve all the cuddles), or Stiles having survivors guilt over the Hale fire.  
> I always felt the show had multiple golden opportunities to explore things like ptsd, survivors guilt, depression, and they deliberately chose not to. Therefore, I feel inclined to give a warning about the future direction of this story.  
> The majority of these characters are struggling with deep rooted, unaddressed issues. Alongside this they'll have to deal with some very messed up things which happen.  
> This story (this series in actuality) gets VERY DARK. I don't want to put people of reading, however I know from personal experience it can suck to get majorly invested in a story only to have to drop it because it contains triggers.  
> So: mind control, rape, physical/emotional/mental abuse, euthanasia, and arson will be explored... THOROUGHLY.  
> Other issues will be as well to lesser extents. These were the ones that immediately stood out to me.


	3. Haunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have always been of the opinion that Derek was 14/15 when the fire happened. This makes his "relationship" with Kate, sexual abuse (rape of a minor considering how I think everything went down). Also in my story they met because she was a substitute teacher, making the power imbalance even worse. This chapter shows part of this "relationship". I feel icky having written it to be honest, however it is cannon that they were a thing so I'm exploring how it might have come about.  
> Enjoy!

Sitting in her car, Stiles contemplates driving out of town instead of entering the school in front of her.

Scott wasn't answering her calls, and she was worried; meaning she'd be completely incapable of coping properly. Chemistry was always awful, Mr. Harris hating her due to her ADHD (one test tube knocked on his suit was enough to apparently have her labelled the Antichrist).

Huffing she glares at the steering wheel, only to jump in surprise when a sharp knock on her window distracts her. Looking out she's shocked to see Jackson stood next to her car, watching her expectantly.

"You gonna sit there all day Stilinski?" He asks, face set in his usual look of derision.

Rolling her eyes she grabs her bag, and leaves the car.

"What do you want Jax?" Stiles asks. 

"Nothing, just don't need your brand of crazy stinking up the car park."

Smiling reluctantly Stiles shoves him lightly.

"Love you too asshole."

Smirking at her Jackson tilts his head in the direction of the school, eyebrows asking her if she was ready. _What was it with the guys she knew and silent eyebrow communication?_

"Well, can't escape now can I? Let's go, I'd rather get Chemistry over and done with... pronto," she says.

Walking towards where Lydia was stood, waiting for them to join her. Seeing the smug smile curled lazily on the other girls face, Stiles snorts.

"I'm guessing you're the reason this one suddenly grew some empathy and checked on me," she says. Vaguely gesturing towards Jackson as she talks.

Laughing quietly when Lydia nods sharply, both of them ignore the boy's weak protestations. He was a dick, they all knew it.

"Can't have my only competition absent, can I?" 

"Lyds you're ahead of me in every subject."

"Only because you go on tangents, male circumcision in econ. Really Stiles?"

"I brought it back on topic, eventually."

Smiling Stiles watches as the other girl's face turns red, frustrating her with weird academic antics was always fun.

Forcing his way into walking between them, Jackson, swings his arms up to rest on their shoulders. "You know Finstock had that essay framed right?"

Chocking on air, she turns to look at him in horror.

"What?!"

"Yeah." He laughs. "Something about it being a good conversation starter."

"Oh my god." 

* * *

Entering econ quickly, she tries to forget the scathing remarks which had been hurled at her by Harris for being absent during the morning. Sometimes he really made pouring laxatives in his coffee look tempting.

Sighing she collapses in her seat pulling out a notebook.

"Bilinski," coach Finstock bellows. Making her jump, quickly focusing on the insane teacher.

"Yes sir."

"You're on the field tomorrow."

Sitting back she glances at Jackson who is smirking at her, not doing anything to help. _Fuck._

"Sir?"

"Jackson says you help him train."

"Yeah..."

"I'm putting you in goal."

Gaping at him in shock her arms flail, "but, but I've never played before."

"No need, you have to stand and catch the ball. Be there."

"But..."

"Bilinski, I will fail you. Shut it and show up."

_I hate him._ Hand coming up to cover her mouth she glares at the coach, shifting to glare at Jackson when she hears him snicker. 

"I'm going to catch that ball every time you try to score you jackass." She hisses at him, not noticing that Finstock was listening to her talk. The loud clap and 'that's the spirit Stilinski' shouted over everyone chattering makes her jump. _Again._

Groaning she puts her head on the desk in front of her, and shuts her eyes. Trying to block out the building headache, unsuccessfully. 

Sitting back up she finds herself sat in the same classroom, surrounded by completely different people.

Freezing in shock she feels eyes on her. Glancing to the side she sees the man she'd worked with in the Hale fire. Sat behind him... the woman who stood by and laughed as his family burned.

Opening her mouth to say something she blinks, and suddenly the classroom is empty. Looking to the front she sees Finstock sat behind his desk grading. It's dark out.

Blink.

The woman is stood in front of a class, talking about being a substitute. Finstock is off, ill or something. Her eyes follow where the woman is looking, it's Derek. Younger, happy, but still recognizably him. Stiles wants to scream, she can't.

Blink.

Derek's been held back after class, the woman whispering "call me Kate." He grins easily, nodding at the request. _Don't fall for it, she's a monster._

Blink.

They're alone again, kissing. Stiles looks away, vomit crawling up her throat. He's a kid. She shouldn't be here, this shouldn't be happening.

_Blink._

Everything's normal.

Finstock yelling at Greenberg, while Jackson takes bets about which insults will be used.

Coughing she gets up, a 'feeling sick' being thrown over her shoulder as she staggers out of the classroom. Making it to toilets, she retches into one. Eyes watering as the smell of sick burns her nose. _Fuck._

Sitting back against a wall she struggles to breathe. Small hiccups breaking up the ragged gasps she takes.

Head on her knees she cries. Cries for the family which burned, the boy who was used, the man she couldn't save.

"Oh my god."

Hearing the gently whispered words she looks up. There's a girl stood watching her, hand brought up to her mouth in shock. Feeling sick again she drops her head back down and dry heaves. _Everyone's going to know. Shit, shit ,shit._

A hesitant hand on her arm brings her back to the present.

Soft words filtering through the thick panicked fog of her mind. "Hey, hey. You have to breathe okay, shit. Follow me okay?"

Nodding numbly she tries, listening to the exaggerated breathing of the girl sat beside her. Haltingly copying her, Stiles slowly starts to calm.

Exhaustion washing over her, and making her eyes droop.

"No, you can't fall asleep here. Please stay awake," the girl says quietly.

Rubbing her eyes Stiles nods slightly. Gesturing towards the sink.

"You want to wash your face?"

Nodding Stiles takes the offered hand, a faint smile tugging on her lips when she realizes how tiny the girl is.

Shakily walking to the sinks, she dunks her head in water. Drying her face with the paper towels the girl brings her. She looks up at her reflection, taking in the red rimmed eyes, pale complexion, and miserable expression.

She looks _awful_. 

Turning her back to the mirror she leans on the sink, slouching. Taking in her savior properly for the first time, she realizes that she's new.

No doubt seeing the puzzled look on her face the new girl smiles shyly. 

"Hi, I'm Allison."

"Stiles. Nice name."

"Thanks, my mom picked it. Something about a name meaning 'noble' being a proper tribute to the family. Honestly I think she sounded like a cult member when she explained it, but she's just special I suppose." Smirking slightly Stiles watches Allison realize she's rambling, the pink bleeding into her cheeks making her look adorable. "Sorry, I can be a bit of a motor mouth."

"Same."

Snorting Allison looks at her, wonderingly. "I can honestly not tell if you're lying right now."

"Tired. Brain power focused on standing, not chatting. Sorry."

"Oh god, I should be apologizing not you."

Startled Stiles looks at her questioningly. "What, why?"

"I just hijacked your moment. To be fair it was a pretty shitty moment, but still..." She trails off, a mischievous smile playing on her face.

Breaking into surprised giggles Stiles smiles back at her. 

_That's it, Lydia will claim her. She's friend material._

"I think we'll be good friends," she says. 

"Agreed."

The dimpled grin Allison sends her way makes Stiles's grin grow stronger. _Friend material indeed._

* * *

Walking with Allison to were her dad is waiting, she glances around trying to spot Scott. Frowning when his face remains suspiciously absent. 

_Where is he?_

Gnawing on her lip she resolves to head to the clinic, then his house. If he's really lost she'll tell her dad.

Tugging on her arm draws her gaze to Allison, realizing they've stopped walking she tilts her head in confusion.

"Wow, you really were completely lost up there weren't you?"

"No?"

Snorting Allison looks at her with laughing eyes. "Well anyway... Stiles, my dad. Dad, Stiles." Looking at the man stood by the car, looking at her suspiciously, Stiles holds in a grimace. _Great. Protective parent alert._

"Nice to meet you, Sir. Allison was very kind to me earlier, I don't know what I'd have done without her, you've raised a real hero." She says, grinning softly at the embarrassed girl next to her. Glancing back at the man, relieved to see he'd relaxed while she was teasing his daughter. _Checkmate._

"Stiles..." Allison groans. Pouting when the only response she gets is a unrepentant smirk.

Grimacing as her head throbs, Stiles decides to leave. Smiling politely at Allison's father, she turns to her new friend. 

"I have to go... I promised to meet up with an old friend, new friend."

"Will I get meet this mystery person?"

"Sure, Scott is a massive puppy. The two of you will get on like a house on fire."

Watching from the corner of her eye, Stiles spots the tiny flinch which flashes across Mr... _Wait?_

_"_ Allison I just realized, you never told me your last name. I can't go around referring to your dad as 'Ally's dad' in my head, one day I'll end up calling him that when I'm suppose to be serious."

Before the other girl can answer the silent man speaks up. "Argent, our last name is Argent."

Tensing she looks at him for several drawn out seconds, finally smiling disarmingly.

"That means silver right?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"I have a way with words."

Looking back at Allison, who had watched the exchange with a confused grin on her face; Sties throws caution to the wind and gives her a brief hug. Whispering "thanks for earlier," in her ear.

Coughing she turns with a casual wave and leaves the pair, trudging quickly to her car. Hoping to escape the school before Harris catches her loitering.

_He has her eyes._

It makes Stiles want to cry again, of course her new friend has to be related to a psychopath.

The world hates her, and she is starting to really hate it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing panic attacks are always difficult, because people have vastly different experiences. The one in this chapter is largely based on one I once had while in school. I know how some people feel them build up, personally mine usually kind of explode from 0 to 100 very quickly. Therefore, I wanted Stiles to know what was happening (and that she should head to the toilets), while still being caught of guard.  
> On another note, I really like Allison and she should be protected at all cost. Unfortunately, because this is a not very happy (for a lot of it) story, she is put through some serious shit as well.  
> Comments are seriously appreciated, they push me forward and highlight things I should continue exploring.


	4. Dammit Deaton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just sorta wrote itself if I'm being honest.  
> Enjoy!

Driving to the clinic Stiles can't help the sinking feeling in her gut.

Perhaps she should have told her dad immediately?

What if Scott wasn't there?

Staring at the street in front of her, she wonders if Scott was bitten. _I have always been the faster runner._

Turning into the clinic she stops Roscoe, leaning back in her seat with a soft groan. Her side (while better) still ached. 

_Being bitten is a bitch._

Checking her phone she sees a text she'd missed. It's from Laura.

Staring at the screen in shock for several moments she blinks quickly, valiantly fighting the sob which builds at the reminder that her friend is dead. Opening it she reads, taking in the last words Laura sent her.

**Hey, can you do me a favor?**

**My uncle's stuck in the hospital (they still won't let us transfer him 😐).**

**Could you visit him?**

**Me and Derek are coming back, but we might be held up.**

**Don't want him to be alone on the anniversary of the fire.**

**Chat later munchkin xx**

**p.s don't trust Deaton,** _**batman** **has less secrets.** _

Breathe catching in her throat Stiles swallows, throat feeling dry. Laura told her to not trust Deaton. Now she was dead, murdered. No matter what the official report says, that cut was way too precises to be an animal attack. _Shit._

Dragging a shaky breathe into her lungs she steels herself. Clambering out of the car awkwardly, hands tucked in her pockets. Trying to look casual. Opening the door she looks around, taking in the sterile surfaces with a new edge of mistrust.

"Scott?" She whisper shouts. Containing her flinch when there's no reply.

Breathing deeply to calm herself Stiles sneezes; the smell of wet fur, dust, and disinfectant ripe in the air.

"Bless you."

Tensing she turns around, meeting the polite yet disinterested gaze of the vet. 

Coughing she smiles weakly. "What's up Doc. You haven't seen Scott have you? We're meant to study for a Chemistry test tomorrow and I really don't wan to bomb it." Biting her lip she rubs the back of her neck self-consciously, trying to project as much sheepishness as physically possible.

His dismissive once over makes her cheer internally. _Success._

"I'm sorry miss Stilinski, I haven't. If Scott shows up I'll be sure to send him your way," he says. 

_Lie._

Stiles isn't sure what makes her so certain. But she can taste the falsehood surrounding the words, and it makes her teeth ache... her blood boil. He has her friend, her brother, and he's keeping her from him.

Raising her eyebrow in an imitation of Derek, she smiles. It isn't a nice smile, more sharp than kind. A baring of teeth and violent intent, which calls to the primal animal in both of them. Her pride stands at attention when she sees the discomforted surprise flicker across his face. _Check._

Voice raised to a shout she calls out "SCOTT."

Eyes glittering with poorly concealed triumph when she hears the answering "Stiles." Muffled by the walls she can still make out the distinct voice of her friend, a dark part of her mind finally settling now that his location is verified.

Leaning against the wall behind her, Stiles waits patiently for Scott to join them. Her eyes never leaving the shifting body of the man across from her.

If Laura didn't trust him, and went out of her way to warn Stiles. She wouldn't trust him either.

Stiles wasn't taking anything he was selling.

Shifting position she smirks when Scott stumbles into the room. Hair a mess, and mud on his jeans, Stiles thinks he looks brilliant. Her relief at seeing him whole and healthy out weighting her wariness.

"Hey stranger."

"Stiles," the relief in Scott's voice makes her heart warm. _He was worried._

"We gotta go."

"Huh why?"

"We have a chem test to study for idiot," she says. Eyes pleading him to play along.

Nodding slowly he grins, trusting her easily. It makes her want to kiss him. 

"Sorry, totally forgot. Let me grab my bag and we'll head out," he says. Quickly heading back the way he came.

Attention turning back to the suspiciously quiet man, Stiles allows a satisfied grin on her face. _Check._

"Everything okay Doc? You look sorta pale."

"Fine, miss Stilinski. The recent animal attacks have simply left me slightly on edge."

"Makes sense. After all, a vet like you must be appalled at the damage being done to innocent animals."

"Quite."

"have you been brought in to consult?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, a professional like you must be able to identify what exactly is doing all this damage."

"Unfortunately not, I am specialized in domestic animals. Not wild ones."

"That is a shame."

"I enjoy it, so I'm afraid I can't say I agree."

"No. No, I suppose it must be easier to deal with more docile specimens."

"You'd be right, less chance of feral behavior." Deaton says, turning his back to her. She waits patiently, not saying anything. He's making a point and she's curious.

"Although, sometimes... and this is a shame, domesticated beasts play up. Usually they end up having to be put down, for the safety of all involved of course."

Ice slipping through her veins Stiles's smile freezes. "Of course."

Silence falls between them. Heavy and stifling it makes her lean back on the wall for support. _He knows._

Empty eyes searching the floor she is knocked out of her stupor by Scott's questioning nudge. Looking up she nods sharply. 

"Lets go."

"Have a good evening miss Stilinski. Scott." Deaton says, smiling benevolently. He looks kind.

Stiles wants to claw his face off.

"You too Doc." Sweet Scott says, oblivious to the tension between his boss and best friend.

Turning to leave Stiles stops.

"Lock your door at night Deaton. You're close to the preserve, we wouldn't want anything to happen to the towns only vet. It would be difficult to replace you, right Scott?"

"Totally."

Watching the man freeze as the thick and syrupy scent of anger oozes off him, Stiles wants to howl. A vicious snarl hidden behind the saccharine smile which stretches across her lips.

_Checkmate._

"Have a nice evening Deaton."

With that she ushers Scott out of the clinic. 

Slipping into the drivers seat she shares a look with her brother.

"Coffee?"

"Coffee."

* * *

Sitting in the back of 'Coffee and Cake', Stiles relaxes.

The tense slant of her shoulders falling into place, as the furrow between her brows smooths.

Located near the police station, the coffee shop has become her safe haven. A place to hide from the world, while still being close to her dad. The warm light, soft crackle from the fireplace, and permanent smell of baked goods making her smile.

"Nice place," Scott says.

"Have I never taken you here before?"

"Nah, you like having your little hiding places. Besides you always bring the coffee, not me."

Snorting Stiles grins. He wasn't wrong.

"What're you having?" Scott asks.

"They know my face, they'll bring my usual."

"Well then what do you recommend?"

"The hot choc is the best I've ever had, and the veg soup is really nice."

"Cool, I'll try it."

Bright and energetic, he stands to order at the counter. Quickly coming back with some crisp biscuits on a small plate, happily eating one as he walks.

"Hungry?" She asks, a little laugh slipping past her lips.

"Starving."

Watching Scott munch on his snack, Stiles smiles. Muttering a quiet "thanks" when the waitress comes with their food and drinks.

Quickly digging into her own meal. The pair eat in comfortable silence, the others presence being enough company to make them content.

Finishing faster than usual they sit still, unwilling to break the peace with conversation, drinking occasionally as they rest. Both exhausted by the day.

Looking at Scott Stiles sighs. _Better rip the band-aid off quickly._

"Were you bit in the woods last night?"

She watches as he freezes in place, body tensing so much she thinks he's going to run for it.

"ugh... no?"

"Scott."

He twitches, looking trapped and uncomfortable.

"I think you were."

Nothing. He stays silent.

"You disappeared."

His head bows, shame making him curl in on himself.

"I was as well."

_There it is._

His head snaps up immediately, eyes wide in horror as he stares at her in shock. 

"Wh... what?"

"I. Was. Bit."

"But, you're fine. Normal even."

Frowning Stiles sends a questioning look his way, confusion mixing with rising irritation. _Why is he scared._

"Am I supposed to be something else?"

"No. Yes... I don't know," Scott blurts out, stumbling over the words in his haste to reply.

"Well, what am I supposed to be?"

"A feral monstrosity which chews on the livers of dead people." He says finally, embarrassment making his face flush red.

_Dammit Deaton!_

There's no one else Scott could have told, will have trusted with a wolf bite. Well he'd have trusted her, but she was busy being occupied by Derek. Sighing she drops her head in her hands in exasperation.

"That's seems a bit excessive."

"A bit?"

"Of course, I only eat the livers of alive people thank you very much. No digging up the dead." Stiles says, laughter bubbling in her throat at the disgusted grimace which flashes across Scott's face.

"Ew..."

"You started it."

"Did not."

"Did to."

"Did not, Deaton did."

Squinting at him suspiciously Stiles smirks. _Well played._

"Fine, you win. Not your fault."

"Victory!" Scott semi-shouts. Voice booming pleasantly round the room, making the other patrons look at them.

"Volume Scott. Volume."

"Sorry."

Glaring disapprovingly at her friend for a few moments, Stiles fights the laugh building in her chest. Giving in just as he was starting to pout.

Clearing her throat she smirks softly, before sitting up a more serious look taking over her face.

"He's wrong."

The startled head jerk makes her roll her eyes.

"Werewolves aren't monsters."

"How'd you know?"

"I spent my morning being cared for by one."

"What?" Scott whispers. Alarm making his face contort.

"He was lovely, patched me up and drove me home."

"Was he the one who... you know."

"Bit us? No. Although he knows who it is, or suspects at least."

"You sure?"

"I swear on Roscoe."

Nodding in satisfaction Scott sits back, drinking as he thinks.

"Tell me what you know."

Taking in the stubborn set of Scott's shoulders for the first time, she realizes that he wasn't going to accept a vague answer.

"Okay."

Sipping on her drink slowly, Stiles gathers her thoughts. Organizing them in a way which will make sense to the her overwrought friend.

"I'm going to mention somethings which don't immediately make sense, so just stick with me please." 

She can't hide her relieved sigh when Scott agrees. _Great, now comes the hard part._

"I got a text, it asked me not to trust Deaton... I know you respect the man but there's always been something about him that's felt wrong."

"Felt wrong like knowing every time Harris is going to ambush us felt wrong, or like how it is for normal people?"

"Harris. Anyway, the text was sent by Laura. The girl that died, she was my babysitter before the fire..."

"Fire?"

"Jesus Scott. The Hale house burnt down six years ago, most of the family died trapped in the basement. She was asking me to visit her uncle, he survived but has been catatonic ever since."

Taking in his dumbfounded expression she huffs, irritated. Melissa has always tried to shield Scott, but she thought he'd at least have heard of the tragedy. _No one ever talks about it, dumb-ass._

Eyes focused on the table in front of her she continues. Pushing the echoed screams seared in her memory out of the limelight. _Focus._

"I think it was arson."

"Why?"

"When I got home (after being patched up I mean), I had a dream. In it I saw the house burning, while a woman stood and not only watched... Scott, she laughed while a family burnt to death in front of her."

"Shit."

"Yeah. I know we used to joke about me being psychic, but werewolves are real. I'm not willing to bet against mystical dream magic, hell I believed in it before all this new crap."

Looking at her friend with hope filled eyes, Stiles prays that he'll believe her.

She can't contain her grin when he meets her gaze, righteous fury brightening his eyes to a lethal heat.

"What do we do?"

"Dad has to know."

The wounded whine which slips from Scott makes both of them pause. Eyebrow raised as she glares, unimpressed with his reluctance, Stiles powers on.

"And we really have to find out who the alpha is."

"Why?"

"Because right now a very hurt, very vengeful wolf is running around."

"Right, anything else?"

"I think I know who the woman at the fire is."

"Who?"

"She's related in some way to the family that's just moved here."

"The Argents?"

"Yeah. I noticed that papa Argent's eyes are the exact same shape and color as our rampant arsonist's."

The alarm which flashes across Scott's face at that makes her lean back, confused.

"You were close enough to notice that kind of detail?"

Not knowing what to say, Stiles nods carefully. A flinch instinctively making her rear back when his fury blankets the area. The scent is overwhelming, drowning out the pleasant aroma of pastries; replacing it with salt and spice.

Hoping to distract him she keeps talking.

"Look I know it was risky but..."

"No Stiles, you're my sister. I don't want you being near people related to a possible psychopathic murderer."

"To be fair, the daughter Allison is lovely."

"I don't care Stiles, and anyway not the goddamn point."

"I know... sorry Scotty."

Warily Stiles watches as he deflates, the anger which had gripped him in a strangle hold fleeing rapidly. Leaving behind a tired, and put out brother. Fed up with the ridiculous behavior of a younger sibling.

Coughing to break the uncomfortable tension hanging between them, Stiles smirks mirthlessly.

"So... we on team Hale?" She asks. Grinning fully when she sees the small smile working its way onto Scott's face.

"Yeah, yeah we're team Hale."

"Well then partner, we have a case to solve."

Chuckling dramatically she pulls Scott (who looks reluctantly amused) towards the door.

"Murder board time," she says proudly. Giggling at his irritated groan.

"Can we not call it a murder board?"

"Nope."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deaton is an evil prick, who is both really frustrating and fun to write. Scott on the other hand is a good friend (in this story), who doesn't have a huge grudge against the Hales.  
> For the people wondering, Peter will show up soon. I love him and Stiles so I can't keep him out of the story much longer, but I wanted to build her up as a strong independent person before they meet.  
> 


	5. Saved by the bell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!  
> This chapter has some pretty dark things happen in it (at the beginning).  
> So Warning:  
> Torture (psychological and physical)  
> Mentioned murder  
> Burning described
> 
> I think that's it. If you spot anything while reading which should be included in the warning please tell me in the comment section.  
> Enjoy!

_POV: Peter_

Agony has become his companion, pulsing through him as his body tries to knit itself back together.

Rage sometimes rears its head, but it's rare. Instead he feels it simmer constantly in the back of his mind, restrained. Waiting for the chance to be unleashed on those who are keeping him trapped.

"Peter? Are you awake?

_Speak of the devil, and they will appear._

Groaning he manages to move back before the slap knocks him off balance. Blinking up at the cruel woman in triumph, he feels his lip twitch into a faint smirk. _Take that you manipulative bitch._

A fake frown of concern mars her face, as acid green eyes flash dangerously.

He wants to gouge them out, and feed them to her.

"Now Peter... We've talked about this. Acting out will only get you punished," she says; tutting disapprovingly. Tone so sweet he wants to vomit.

The wolf in the back of his mind begs to be released, to **tear** and **rip** and...

"Anyway, I come with bad news." 

Her scent says otherwise. Cloy, it fills the room. Smoke, syrup, and sadism blending together in a way which makes him fall into old memories; trying to escape the hell his life has become.

It's in vain.

"Your niece, Laura? She's dead, throat slashed ear to ear."

A broken whine escapes before he can stop it. Little Laurie _dead?_

She was vivacious last he saw her, cheering on her brother as he played basketball. He remembers how she'd turned to him with a blinding smile, and asked if he had any popcorn. Joking with him through the entire match that she had finally joined the old people's club now she was at college.

' _Not for another few years Laurie'_ he'd said. Ruffling her hair as she squawked indignantly.

Only there hadn't been another few years. A week later she was at college, and the house was burning around the rest of them.

He can still feel the flames licking his side, eating away at him as he struggled with the mountain ash barrier, as he pushed Cora into the arms of his... into _her_ arms.

What a way to meet... he'd thought she was a hallucination to begin with, beating on the window in a panic. The sheer horror in her eyes as she took in the family, was pleasantly surprising _(at least some people in the world aren't completely insane)._ When her body started becoming blurred he realized magic was in play. 

So he pushed her away.

Better one person escape the flames than no one.

"Listen to me!" The sharp slap stings, as do the wolfs-bane soaked ropes tying his hands to the chair. _Stupid, pay attention._

His lips curl instinctively as he turns his shifted gaze up at her. Not registering the small mirror held up in front of him immediately, horror shooting through him when he does.

His eyes are _red_.

Shit.

Glaring at the woman holding it, he snarls.

"There it is. The monster I know you are capable of being, don't worry. I'll fix everything." She says. Voice dropping into a soothing whisper, as she smiles down at him.

The lighter held up to his face makes him writhe, a scream lodging itself in his throat as he tries to spit out the wolfs-bane shoved in his mouth.

In the moment he lets himself _HATE_. The dark fury rising from the back of his mind easier to deal with than the crushing guilt weighing down on him, he killed his niece. His family.

Sinking into the emotions, he waits. Plotting all the ways he's going to hurt her when he's strong enough to be in control of his wolf.

It makes him smile, even as his skin curls away from the bone. Malicious humor seeps into the air, making the woman in front of him flinch.

Good. _We both know she's living on borrowed time._

* * *

_POV: Stiles_

Waking up with a scream on your lips _sucks._

Stiles hates it; hates the worry she can literally feel rolling off Scott.

Sick of his hesitation she turns around, locking eyes with him deliberately. Patting the space next to her she lets him shift closer to her, before collapsing onto his chest with a stifled groan.

"Wan' to talk bout it?" Scott asks quietly. Nudging her hairline with his nose, as he breathes in her scent. 

She nods reluctantly, better talk than try to forget.

"It was dark, hot... and there was this rage, all around me. It felt like I'd never be happy again." She whispers into his shirt. Shifting so her face rests in the crook of his neck. Hugging him as a reminder that everything was fine.

"Quoting Harry Potter Stiles, really?"

Smiling softly she huffs, "it works."

"Sure it does," he says. Chuckling at her exaggerated pout.

"Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not going anywhere are you?" She asks, voice sounding broken and small.

Looking at the wall stubbornly, she's surprised when he tugs her up to sit in his lap. Holding her jaw gently, he looks her in the eye as he says "no. No I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Beaming at him, Stiles loops her arms around his shoulders and squeezes him in a massive hug. _Best. Brother. Ever._

Pulling away slowly, she grins gingerly at him. feeling awkward for reacting so badly to a dream.

Clearing her throat she waves at the door, "breakfast?"

"God yes." Scott says, leaping of the bed with her still in his arms. A pleased shriek escaping her as he carries her down the stairs, finally placing her on the kitchen counter.

Grinning at her impishly, he searches through the cupboards. Mussing jokingly "what will we have... there's cereal, cereal, and look at that more cereal."

Stiles giggles as he turns to her with mock severity.

"Look here missy, you need a better diet." The poke to her forehead which accompanies his words, makes her burst out in full on body shaking laughter.

She leans back on the wall behind her as she enjoys the moment.

Closing her eyes as she basks in the calming scent of her pack mate, she hums happily. The wolf in her preening at the attention being given to her.

"Your dad's gone."

"Hmm?"

"He left a note."

Wanting to test a theory she focuses on her curiosity, her need for Scott to read her the note. The sound of him breathing in quickly makes her smirk, as her head tilts up towards the ceiling. His warning, yet playful growl makes her grin.

Eyes opening to lock with his, she feels her pride fill the room; sparkling like fresh champagne.

Looking down at the note Scott quickly reads. "Will be back tonight, gone to work."

Huffing at her dad's bluntness Stiles smiles, and jumps down from the counter. A cheeky grin spreading across her face as she projects her mirth into the room.

"Lets get dressed properly; we can stop for coffee on our way to school, since you disprove of my breakfast selection... Clear up will you?" She says happily. Glancing at the counter covered in cereal boxes quickly before she runs up the stairs to her room.

The sound of Scott swearing lightly downstairs ringing in her ears.

Today's going to be a good day. _Damn anyone who tries to ruin it._

* * *

Walking into school with Scott at her side, and coffee in hand Stiles feels content. 

Making a beeline towards Allison who stands outside looking lost, Stiles smiles cheerfully at the other girl.

Holding out the extra coffee she'd brought along. "Here. Wasn't sure if you like it, but in my experience caffeine is always appreciated before school."

The dimpled grin she gets, tells her she did a good job.

She watches amused as Allison chugs half the cup immediately. Instantly perking up as if Stiles had given her the best present ever.

"Thanks! I was in a rush this morning and didn't have time to make any."

"I can see that."

"...shut up."

"No."

Stiles turns to look at Scott, who is stood apart from them. Giving the two girls the feeling of privacy.

Grabbing hold of his shirt, she gently tugs till he moves to stand next to her.

"Allison, my brother Scott. Scott, my new friend Allison."

Taking a step back, Stiles barely holds in a giggle when both freeze in place. Looking at the others face like it was a long lost treasure, it was cute.

"Sooo, we ready for the horror of English Lit?"

"Huh" Scott says looking back at her with dazed eyes. Snorting Stiles smiles, _adorable._

"I said, we ready for the horror which is English Lit?" 

She breaks out laughing when she spots the dawning disgust on his face. His hatred of the class was extreme, but _(somehow)_ he always forgot they had it on Wednesday's. She took a special delight in reminding him, the glare he sent her way told her he knew this and was unimpressed.

Looking at Allison she whispers conspiratorially. "I bet I can make the teacher go on a tangent about attendance."

"Is this an ongoing topic of debate?"

"Oh yeah. There's at least one PowerPoint a week, about how we can't 'sacrifice our grades to the horror of social media'." Scott says, tone flat yet somehow amused.

"You're kidding." Allison whisper shouts. Glancing around, at the ordinary looking school in muted distaste.

"Nope. Then there's the whole 'caffeine will make your brain rot' while they're drinking coffee lecture." Stiles says, taking a loud sip of her drink to emphasize the point.

"Well, Finstock doesn't give that one. He's more along the lines of 'here's five bucks, buy me one next time." Scott says. Pausing to tilt his head to the side like a massive puppy. "Unless it's Greenberg," he adds absently.

"True, true. Bribes always work well with him." Stiles says sagely.

Looking at the two in amusement, Allison snorts.

Suddenly, all three of them are cackling in the middle of the school car park.

Blatantly ignoring the unimpressed glares sent their way for being cheerful so early.

The loud "hem hem" from behind Stiles makes her shriek "Umbridge" as she spins around. 

"Lydia!"

"What?"

"Try not to kill me through your creepy stealth antics."

"No promises."

"Satan's mistress." Stiles whispers huffily.

"Mistress? Please... I'd be his wife."

"He's married to Persephone." Stiles says primly. Smirking at the annoyed glare she gets for referencing the wrong mythos.

She feels her smirk turn into a genuine smile when Lydia turns away from her dismissively.

Leaning on Scott, she feels him shake with silent laughter. 

Absently she elbows him as they watch the two girls in front of them interact.

_Go easy on her Lyds._

"I'm in the search for a new best friend, you up for it?"

Well, Stiles didn't expect _that._

Allison looks taken aback, as if she's unused to such blunt conversation.

"Ugh... sure?" The awkward answer is made charming by the shy smile she shoots their way.

"Rude." Stiles says petulantly.

"Deserved," Lydia shoots back. 

Allison's giggle makes Stiles dramatically gasp, hand coming up to rest over her heart in mock offence.

"The betrayal is absolute!" She groans. Turning her face into Scott's chest as she fake sobs. 

The bell cuts through their amateur dramatics, and Stiles smirks when she hears Scott groan. She looks up taking in his grimace with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

"Come on champ, we have the adventure of a lovesick moron to learn about," she says.

"Aren't we reading the Great Gatsby?" Allison asks, confusion marring her face.

"Yep."

Snorting Lydia tilts her head to the side as she loops her arm with Allison's, gently steering her towards the right classroom. 

"Stiles hates Gatsby." Scott offers as an explanation.

He's a creep," she says. Face set in a stubborn frown.

"It's a classic." Lydia counters, smirk curling lazily on her face.

A classic case of creepy stalker behavior more like," Stiles whispers to Allison. Walking on her opposite side, working with Lydia to keep her shielded from the invasive gossip of the other students.

"Where you going Scott?" She asks. Turning around to spot him as he tries to slip away.

"I hate English," he complains.

"And I loathe Gatsby, we can suffer together. Now come on." 

Holding her hand out she smiles when he takes it.

"Trust me, I'll make it a fun lesson," she promises. Enjoying the intrigued yet worried glances she gets from Scott and Lydia.

* * *

She decides to let them stew for the majority of the lesson. Only telling Allison her plan since she sat down next to her.

They have a substitute, the actual teacher is off sick or something. Stiles doesn't really care, she's just happy that _o_ _peration annoy teacher_ will be easier. 

The subs are always more high strung, something about 'meeting expectations'.

Smiling she asks if she can go to the toilet, hiding her knowing smirk when the woman tells her to hold it.

"But miss... there's only half an hour left. It's not like there's anything important that will be discussed in that amount of time."

The shade of puce the teacher turns, really doesn't match her top.

"Miss Stilinski." The woman actually pauses to gather her thoughts, obviously appalled at Stiles's easy dismissal of the lesson.

"Yes?"

The rest of the class snicker. Stiles spots Greenberg munching on some chips as he enjoys the show, _you're welcome._

"How are you suggesting you pass if lesson's are so very useless?"

"Read the book, don't be a moron."

"Wha... This is a very important part of your education." The teacher blusters, _what is her name?_

"Yeah, because I'm going to use my understanding of Gatsby's fucked up mind when writing a resume."

"Language."

"Yes, ma'am." Stiles retorts with a jaunty salute.

Looking to the side she spots Scott and winks at him, grinning when she sees him struggle not to laugh.

"Anyhow, your attendance is reflected in your grades. With that kind of attitude, I'd be surprised if you get a passing one in any of your subjects."

The entire class perks up at her saying that, especially since Lydia decides to join the conversation. 

"Actually miss..." She leans forward and squints at the badge on the teachers jacket. "Miss Wilcox, Stiles has the second highest grades in the school."

"Oh really, what are they?"

" A's with some A+'s thrown in." Stiles says.

"The only reason it isn't perfect across the board is because you like tangents." Lydia says casually, a small smirk having worked its way onto her face as they talked.

Miss Wilcox looks like shes been slapped, gaping at the pair in shock.

"Well Miss Stilinski, it is still in the rules that students have to be physically present for lessons."

"Okay." Stiles answers. Putting her head on the table and dozing.

"What are you doing?"

"You said I have to be physically present, if I take a nap I'll be here but not bored."

This proves to be too much for Allison who bursts out in giggles, hand coming up to stifle them unsuccessfully.

"Why I never..."

As the woman opens her mouth to go on a tirade, the bell rings. Making her freeze in shock, before she looks at the clock.

Glancing at Allison Stiles smiles whispering "saved by the bell."

Miss Wilcox turns around again to the entire class leaving the room laughing, with Stiles and Scott leading the group.

Grin stretching across her lips, at the delighted expressions on her friends faces. Stiles lets loose a small shout of joy and jumps on Scott's back. 

His rumbling chuckle making her giggle, as he runs down the corridor with her barely hanging on.

Lydia and Allison walk slowly behind them, getting to know one another properly.

Stiles burrows her nose in the crook of Scott's neck scenting him. A content purr slipping past her lips, as she realizes all her friends are happy.

_We did that,_ she thinks to her wolf; grinning when it brushes against her mind gently.

They have all the time in the world, and she'll make the most of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore Allison/Scott/Stiles as friends. Like these are the original three dumb-asses we follow, so I'm not making any of them psycho. Because healthy friendships are a thing, something which the writers of Teen Wolf seemed to often forget (yes I'm bitching). Anyway, writing Peter was... difficult. I love him, and he needed his own section; but God it sucked writing him in pain. I'm sat here like my poor baby, lets make him suffer... He needs all the cuddles.  
> Stiles is a bit of a bitch near the end, but in the show he acts like a dick on occasion (making Jared vomit). Here she's also dealing with the change being a werewolf is having on her temperament.


	6. Cake and conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!! 
> 
> This chapter was a complete pain in the ass to write, there was just something about it that didn't want to be finished. 
> 
> I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, the conversations were fun to write. It just took longer than normal.
> 
> Derek/Stiles's friendship is quickly becoming one of my favorite parts of this fic, there's just something about writing the two which speaks to me (when my muse is in town that is...)
> 
> Warnings: None (that I could think of)

Still buzzing from her earlier joy, Stiles smiles softly as she opens the front door to her home. Only letting the disappointment of finding it empty settle for a moment, before she forces it away.

_Happy thoughts._

Walking towards the kitchen she decides to make dinner.

If she is going to tell her dad about Werewolves, she might as well do it after eating something nice.

Opening the cupboards she feels shock race through her. Scott wasn't kidding, there's only cereal. Checking the fridge she spots some old milk (which stinks), and several beer bottles.

_Shit._

Time to go to the store... alone?

Scott was busy, and she had skipped lacrosse so she couldn't get Jackson to come. Sighing she leans on the kitchen counter looking down at her phone.

Who to ask?

Opening her messages she spots a text from Derek... huh, Derek. Looking at the message she smirks, _blunt as always Hale._

**You dead yet?**

**Want to know if I should go into hiding.**

Stiles feels a grin spread across her face. Thinking for a moment she decides to bite the bullet and text back.

**Unfortunately I'm still alive.**

**Come over?**

**We need to talk.**

Putting her phone down she gets a glass of water, waiting patiently for a reply.

Ten minutes later there's a knock on her door.

"Frekk faen." She mumbles in Norwegian, reluctantly amused at his actions, as she heads to let him in.

Putting on an unimpressed face, which she knew he'll recognize as fake, she opens the door. Taking in the broody man stood on the other side.

"Welcome to casa Stilinski, shoes off" she says. Closing the door as soon as he steps inside so the neighbors wouldn't have much time to spy.

"You could have texted back," she says mildly. Watching him do as she said, gesturing at the coat pegs when he takes of his jacket with a questioning look in her direction.

"And been deprived of your company?" 

Stiles snorts. "Please, if you're going to flirt at least do it at someone who'll be flattered." She says dryly, a smirk curling her lips as she sees Derek stifle a grin.

Turning on her heel she leads him to the living room, plopping down on the sofa carelessly. Humming quietly, she looks at the ceiling as she listens to him moving to join her on the sofa. 

"How's your side?" Derek asks.

"Achy but healed. Should be good as new soon."

"Good. I'm serious about not wanting to hide from a bloodthirsty sheriff."

"Well, lucky you I guess." She says, laughing as she sees him grin.

"Scott is settling into being a wolf well." 

Derek's hum of interest makes her giggle. 

"The two of you'll get along... I think."

"Yeah?"

"Well you can be a bit of a Sourwolf, but I think Scott can handle it."

"Sourwolf." The deadpan glare he sends her way turns her giggles into body shaking guffaws.

"You're a wolf, and you look like you're sucking on a lemon. So Sourwolf. It fits." She explains slowly, shrugging when faced with the full might of his incredulous murder brows.

"You're impossible."

"Thank you."

"Sti..." _Lost for words. Derek Hale is sat in my living room lost for words._

Coughing lightly she looks at him, curious. 

_Time to be serious... Great._

Well she's not gonna beat around the bush, better be blunt.

"You know who the alpha is." She says.

The subtle wave of panic which hits her confirms it.

"Yes."

"Who?"

"My uncle. Peter." He says tiredly; all previous hint of happiness drained away. Looking at him, Stiles winces sympathetically. _He looks like hell spat him out._

"We should go see him." She decides, only realizing afterwards that she said it aloud. The incredulous look Derek shoots her makes her grin, in spite of the serious topic they are discussing.

"Why?"

"We're pack... I might not have been born a wolf, but I can feel how important that is."

"He's not stable."

"And isolating him further will just make that worse... you told me anchors are important. What do you think is anchoring him now? Cause I sure as hell don't think it's going to be memories of the good times." She insists, irritated at his reluctance; even as she understands it.

Shifting closer to him she rest her hand on his shoulder hesitantly; the hard lines of her face softening when he doesn't shrug it off.

Clearing her throat, she continues; "he watched your family burn around him. Only to be completely helpless, and cut off from the last people he cares for. It would he cruel of us to abandon him, not to mention a complete betrayal on your part... in his eyes at least. Lets try to fix this, together."

Watching her pack mate anxiously, Stiles bites her lip. _D_ _id I overstep?_

Seeing him nod slowly she feels relief course through her, a genuine smile breaking through her gloomy thoughts when she hears him say "together" determinedly.

* * *

The unimpressed glare Derek had sent her way when she conscripts his help in going to the store is glorious. As is his car, a sleek black Camaro, which he insists they drive in. Pointing accusingly at her Jeep when she suggests taking it instead, he lists all the ways her baby was a death trap.

It was pretty funny, even though she wanted to pout a bit at how long his list got near the end.

Walking with him down the aisles, tossing food into the cart, she can't help but smirk at the domesticity of the moment. _We're bonding._

Glancing at the man walking next to her, Stiles chuckles.

"You didn't have to come with me, you do know that right?" She asks, curious as to why he bothered coming along if it was so annoying.

"You're pack."

Staring at him questioningly, Stiles huffs when no further answer is given.

"That..." pausing Stiles looks at him further, hoping he was simply being obtuse on purpose. _Nope, just a thickheaded dunce._ "That really doesn't clarify things."

"you were the one to mention pack earlier."

"Yes, and I know the basics, what I feel instinctively. Not all the weird rules you grew up learning." The final point she emphasizes by poking Derek's shoulder. 

"How'd you know I grew up learning pack crap."

Snorting at his words, Stiles levels her best unimpressed look at him.

"I'm not an idiot."

Derek obviously waiting for a more extensive answer smiles involuntarily at her bluntness. Spotting something behind her, Derek reaches around stiles; grabbing a bag of candy and tossing it into the cart. Seeing her questioning look, he chuckles. 

_Hale laughs? Breaking news Beacon hills..._

Irritated with her internal monologue she nearly misses what he says next.

"Picked up on that when I first met you."

"You met me collapsed outside your family's old home... not exactly prime time for intelligence testing."

He looks at her like she's an idiot.

"We met years ago. You were four, my mom had invited your family to our annual barbecue. You... you ran after the rest of us, couldn't keep up of course... we were all wolves and you were just a pesky human." He pauses, smiling wistfully. "Without realizing it we let you herd us to the lake, we got to the edge of the dock and you rammed into us. We all ended up head over ass drenched. Peter just about died, mom wasn't much better."

Blinking quickly Stiles looks away from him. 

"I'd forgotten."

The sad huff of laughter he lets out makes her wince.

"Yeah... most people have." The bitter edge in his voice making it clear what he thinks of the way Laura and he were abandoned after the fire.

Looking around desperately, hoping for a way to change the topic Stiles spots baking supplies. Grinning she turns to him, "come on."

Grabbing hold of the cart she drags it, and him over to the section. Piling all the things she'll need to make a chocolate cake in quickly.

"What are you doing?" Derek asks, curiosity apparently beating broodiness.

"You're sad, and I stress bake. Sooo, I'm making a chocolate cake which we can share after dinner." She says absently. Focused on checking the cart, making a mental list of everything she needs, she doesn't spot the startled look flash across his face.

"Dinner?"

"It's a meal you eat at the end of the day."

"Not what I meant."

"Oh... You're staying for dinner." Looking up at him Stiles tilts her head to the side, confused. "Aren't you?" She asks.

"Sure." He croaks, arms crossing in front of his chest as he looks at her strangely.

"Cool," she says. Flashing a bright smile his way, before she wanders towards another aisle. _I hope there are oranges._ Realizing he's not following her, she turns around. 

Sending him a questioning look, "you coming?"

The slight smirk he sends her way as he nods, makes her grin.

"Just admiring the view," he teases. Eyes doing a slow once over of her body.

"Pig." She snaps at him, a challenging smirk curl on her lips as she meets his eyes.

"Man, "he says blandly.

"Same thing isn't it." 

"Rude." He winces, dramatically placing his hand over his heart.

Snorting she rolls her eyes.

"True," she says dryly. Turning on her heel and disappearing round the corner, a small laugh escaping her when she hears him grumble about being left with the cart.

_Shouldn't have been so slow then Hale._

* * *

Stiles is just about to add icing to the cake when her dad gets home. His shouted greeting of "that smells great," making her smile.

Glancing at Derek who had frozen when the door opened, Stiles sighs softly. Nudging him gently to catch his attention, she gestures at the sink with a whispered "can you clean up?" when he turns to her.

Watching him shuffle to the sink she rolls her eyes, _broodywolf._

Turning around she spots her dad looking at them questioningly, meeting his gaze steadily she shakes her head slightly. 

_Hale stays._

Seeing him nod in understanding, she barely keeps another sigh from escaping her lips. 

Clearing her throat she grins blindingly. "Hey dad."

"Kiddo."

"Nice day at work?" She asks, as she turns back to her cake carefully spreading the icing.

"The investigation is going well."

"Good." She says shortly. For once completely uninterested in digging for more detail.

Trying to change topic she glances around, spotting the still empty table. _Thank fuck._

"Can you lay the table?" 

As Derek goes to do as she asked, she shakes her head.

"Not you. Dad?" 

"I'll just wash my hands," he says. Heading up the stairs towards the bathroom.

"Thanks." She shouts after him.

Finishing with the cake, she pops it in the fridge before grabbing a towel and drying everything Derek cleans. They fall into a comfortable pattern, working silently as the task allows them to completely relax. No longer focused on maintaining a human front, they communicate wordlessly. Completing the task so fast Stiles blinks when they stand with a spotless sink in front of them.

Turning around together they both lean on the counter, Stiles putting her head on Derek's shoulder while his arm comes up to rest around hers. Drawing her flush against his body.

Tilting her head slightly she rests her nose in the crook between his neck and shoulder. Breathing deeply, she takes in the scent she is coming to associate with him alone. Leather, coffee, salt, and wolf all blending together completely. Creating a swirling aura which settles her instinctively.

He smells safe.

Staying still for a indeterminate amount of time, she groans quietly when they hear her dad coming down the stairs. Slowly peeling herself from his side, regretfully.

Her dad is suddenly in front of them, smiling gently.

"Dinner then." She says, hoping to break the tension seeping from Derek.

"Sounds like a plan." Her dad agrees.

_This is going to be a bloody disaster._

* * *

Thankfully, only the steaks they eat end up being bloody.

Walking into the living room, Stiles sits down on the sofa carefully. Cradling her cup of tea tightly.

"Dad..." she starts. Pausing to try and make sense of her scrambled thoughts, wincing when she doesn't succeed.

"What's wrong?" 

Trying to say something, Stiles opens her mouth only to find the words don't come. Groaning in frustration she frowns.

"Your daughter is trying to find a way to tell you she's a Werewolf which won't get her put in a mental hospital." 

"Derek!" She shouts irritated. Missing the look of comprehension which flickers across her dads face.

"Dad... Dad. He's right." She says, looking at her feet stubbornly. Not wanting to meet his gaze if he doesn't believe her.

She's so absorbed in bracing for his scorn, that she doesn't notice him kneeling in front of her until he gently grabs her hands. Head shooting up her eyes meet his warily.

"Darling... kiddo. I believe you."

_Truth._

The honesty in his words makes her collapse forward. Arms coming up clumsily to wrap around his neck in a desperate, crushing hug. She starts to cry, mumbling 'thank you' repeatedly as she clings to him.

Relief at the weight of her deception being lifted, making her legs buckle. All her weight suddenly being supported by her dad, the quiet 'oomph' he releases being the only sign he shows that it isn't as easy to support her as it used to be.

Lifting her he sits on the sofa. Cradling her head gently, he kisses her forehead. Before wrapping her in a strong, yet soft hug.

Exhausted by the sudden emotional moment, especially after a day of built up tension. Stiles starts to drift.

Vaguely picking up on the conversation her dad and Derek are having.

"Where you going kid?" Her dad asks.

"Home."

"Where is that?"

"In the preserve."

This makes her start slightly. _He can't mean the old Hale house._

"You can't mean your family's old house." Her dad says sounding mildly disturbed.

"It's the only place I've got." Derek answers bluntly.

"Well that ends now."

"Sir?" Derek asks, the confusion lacing his words making her feel slightly dizzy. 

"None of that it's John." Her dad sounds firm, it reminds Stiles of when he's addressing the deputies.

"John?"

"You can have our spare bedroom."

"What?"

"Your sister used to look after this one, I'm not going to let you just sulk of into the trees like some delinquent." Her dad says, nudging Stiles slightly as he talks. 

She opens her eyes tiredly, looking at Derek blearily.

"You don' deserve t' be out in the woods alone." She whispers, yawning loudly as she talks.

Nodding slowly but determinedly she tries to stand, swaying dangerously when she succeeds. Siting back down she sighs irritated by her body's reaction. _Faen._

 _"_ I need to get to bed," she mumbles.

Looking at her dad through droopy eyes, she smiles. Leaning in to give him another hug, she practically melts.

Standing again slowly she leans on Derek gratefully when he offers to help her up the stairs. Her sigh of relief becoming a surprised squeak when he lifts her up bridal style, and carries her to her room.

When he puts her on her bed she immediately starts drifting. 

Murmuring a quiet "night Sourwolf," she almost doesn't hear his whispered "sleep well Stiles."

Snuggling into her pillow she slips into sleep with a soft smile on her face, and her dad's kind words ringing in her ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Frekk Faen - Cheeky Fuck(er)  
> Faen - Fuck (literal translation is 'the devil'. However it is used much the same way Fuck is.)
> 
> Stiles finally gets to tell her dad (poor dear). I wanted the relief at not having to lie to overwhelm her, because speaking from experience having to keep a secret from my parents is awful!  
> Also Papa Stilinski is having none of Derek's self-loathing crap.


	7. A strange encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. 
> 
> It's finally here... Stiles and Peter meeting face to face! 
> 
> This chapter was an absolute joy to write, the words simply fell on to the page. It was almost like my muse was apologizing for disappearing while I was writing the last part, lol. We also get a bit of insight into some of Stiles's darker impulses/instincts (she is a wolf after all).
> 
> Warnings:  
> Panic attack  
> Gruesome imagery  
> Graphic depiction of violence (in my opinion)  
> Torture  
> referenced neglect/abandonment
> 
> I think that's it on the warnings front...
> 
> Enjoy!

Standing under the cool spray of the shower, Stiles lets her mind wonder.

_What is Peter like?_

The question has been bothering her since she woke up. Her alpha has been catatonic for years, betrayed, abandoned... that's enough to make even a good man mad.

Werewolves heal quickly.

It was the first thing Derek told her, the one truth which is meant to stand firm, alongside their transformations. Yet Peter has not... something was wrong, and she couldn't figure out what.

_Fuck..._

Swiping her hands over her face, Stiles opens her eyes.

Blood.

Looking down at her hands it's the only thing she can see, _blood._

Stumbling back her legs hit the edge of the tub, making her waver for a second before she regains balance.

Turning around she looks in the mirror, a strangled scream crawling out of her mouth at what she sees. 

Her face is covered in burns. The side of her cheek missing, a gaping hole where it used to be.

Retching, she closes her eyes. Collapsing onto the floor of the tub, she curls inward instinctively; hands coming up to cover the back of her neck.

Panting quickly she struggles to breathe, the image from earlier still playing behind her eyes.

_No, no, no, no, no, n-_

The feeling of eyes watching her, makes her glances up from behind her hair. Her eyes locking with a set of kind blue ones. Blinking in surprise, it takes her a moment to realize she's staring at the man from the Hale fire. 

Swallowing nervously she shuffles back, suddenly very aware of her undressed state.

A chuckle rumbles from him as he takes in her awkward search for cover. Blushing furiously, she watches as he slowly reaches to the floor and picks up her towel; before calmly stretching over her and turning off the water.

"Here." He says, as he offers the towel to her. Eyes never leaving her face, even as she scrambles to cover herself.

He simply kneels next to her, amused.

"How did you get in here?" She asks, anger coloring her voice.

"This is my bathroom." He states, a wry grin stretched across his face.

"What... no it's mine."

Looking around slowly he does a thorough check of the room. 

"No I'm pretty sure it's connected to my bedroom."

"That's impossible."

"Why?"

Just as she opens her mouth to explain, a knock on the door turns her attention away. 

"Stiles? You alright?" Derek's voice asks, muffled by the door.

"Fine. I'll be out in a minute." She calls back.

Listening intently as he walks down the corridor, she sighs in relief when she can no longer hear him.

Turning back to where the man was knelt she blinks in shock.

_The hell?_

He's gone, only the faint scent of his aftershave marking that he'd ever been there. 

Clutching the towel wrapped around her body tightly, Stiles hurries to her room; the strange encounter haunting her as she walks.

Slamming the door noisily when she slips inside, she finally breathes normally. The tension lingering in her body making her dress quickly, as a restless energy takes her over.

Ignoring her mirror she shakes her head, huffing in annoyance when a rampant curl falls in her eyes. _Damn it!_ Pushing the hair out of the way she throws it in a bun and jogs downstairs, a small smile growing when she spots Derek flipping pancakes.

_Happy thoughts._

"Morning," she chirps. Giggling when Derek freezes at her presence.

"Morning." He says curtly, before resuming his cooking.

"Pancakes?" She asks.

"Craved something sweet."

"Fair enough."

Turning away from him she wanders to the fridge, pulling out a small bottle of water which she chugs. Hearing him snort she looks at him questioningly.

"What?"

"Just made me think of how you were when you woke up after being bitten."

"Why?"

"You had the same scent." He says bluntly.

Breaking eye contact she ducks her head, tugging the fridge door back open so she has a barrier between his gaze and her.

"I had a bad dream that's all." She says curtly.

The only response she gets is a hum of amusement as his scent becomes thick, honeyed pride.

Teeth clenching she barely keeps a hold on her temper. _He knows something._

Closing the door with just a bit too much force, she pauses when the fridge rattles. The yogurt pot in her hand forgotten, she looks at him analytically.

"What are you keeping from me."

"Nothing."

_Lie._

The room fills with her fury. Blazing, stifling, it nearly makes her choke.

"Tell me the truth." She demands slowly, jaw clenched as she tries to keep her wolf at bay. The constant stream off _rip, tear, attack, p r e y,_ making her flinch back away from her pack mate.

"Breathe Stiles." Derek says, taking a step towards her.

"No." She forces out. Stumbling away from him, closing her eyes as her body fights itself.

"Tell. Me. The... Truth." She growls.

Gasping she feels her canines extend, ripping her bottom lip.

Blood runs down her chin.

The iron scent blooming from the cuts making the urge to howl almost overpowering. Falling to her knees she feels Derek grab onto her upper arms. 

Keening, she fights. 

Clawing at his stomach and chest, gouging holes in him as he keeps her contained.

"STILES." He growls. Eyes flashing electric blue as hers glow gold. 

"Let me GO!" She shouts. 

He doesn't.

Rather he flips her onto the floor, holding her down until she is too exhausted to move.

"Now listen to me." He says calmly, nothing in his voice betraying the pain he must be in.

"I can't tell you... no don't growl at me. I CAN'T tell you. There are somethings you have to discover yourself. Now I'm going to get a med kit, we are going to patch ourselves up, eat breakfast, and visit Peter. Do. You. Understand?" He states bluntly, watching her face for any hint of anger.

Groaning in frustration Stiles drops her head back, baring her neck to him instead of saying anything. His pleased growl being the only sign he gives that he recognizes the gesture.

Dipping his head down he runs his nose along the column of her neck, his scent blending with the heady cloak her blood gives her.

Shivering at the movement Stiles feels her wolf settle, content with the order which is now established.

Twisting her arms she feel him finally let her go.

She surges forward, arms coming up to wrap around his neck as she returns the favor. Nose running down his neck, she grins. White teeth tinged pink flashing when she feels him shudder over her.

_Pack._

* * *

Eating breakfast was strange.

After what happened, they'd both had to shower. Her blood was matted in her hair.

Dried on his skin.

The floor was like a scene from a murder. Blood globs sitting in the pools left where they had struggled. Scrubbing it away took ages, the cleaning liquids they used smelling rancid to their enhanced senses. Burning their lungs as they worked.

Sneezing at the memory, Stiles takes a bite of her pancake; a happy groan leaving her at the taste.

"Thanks." She mumbles, glancing at Derek who's sat opposite her.

"We need the calories... especially after earlier."

"No kidding." She says, snorting in amusement at the deadpan way he states things.

"Eat," he says simply. Gesturing with his fork at the spread of food in front of them.

"Fine."

So they do. Gorging themselves until they are barely able to move.

Shooting a grin Derek's way Stiles slowly walks to the stairs. 

"What are you doing?" He shouts after her.

"Texting Scott, he'll cover for me." 

Coming to the door to her room, Stiles stops. Wincing as her bruised side aches, _shit._

Opening the door she spots her phone, and grabbing it smiles when she sees the text waiting for her to read.

**You skipping?**

**I'll cover if u need.**

_Good old Scott._

**Yeah, thanks!**

**love u x**

Going to put her phone down she feels it vibrate.

**Back at u idiot.**

Laughing Stiles turns her phone off, and throws it on her pillow.

_Right... visit comatose uncle time._

* * *

Walking into Peter Hale's hospital room is difficult. 

Not in the typical 'there are things in the way' way, more 'the coming conversation is terrifying I don't want to have it' way. It makes Stiles want to run out of the hospital and hop on a plane to the arctic.

Entering the room after Derek she stays by the door, lingering. Not wishing to intrude on what is probably going to be a very tense family reunion.

The smell of antiseptic, and pain hangs in the air. 

Hauntingly hovering around the bed and chair, like a omen of doom.

Light and clean.

Stark and bare.

The room looks more like a cell than a place a man with sever injury would be able to heal. Something about it turns Stiles's stomach.

_Wrong, it's all wrong._

Her perusal of the room, makes her miss most of the one sided conversation happening between Derek and Peter. Nephew and Uncle sat opposite one another, for the first time in god knows how long. 

"Answer me dammit!" Derek says angrily. Finally letting his agitation at the lack of response get to him.

"Derek. Leave." Stiles snaps.

"But..." 

"No. Go get coffee, and calm down." She orders, not wanting to draw attention to the room.

She watches as her pack mate walks quickly down the hallway, heading towards the hospital cafe. Sighing she turns around and walks to where Peter is sat, looking out of the window.

"Sorry about him, he doesn't like seeing you like..." she stops. 

His scars are a exact copy of the ones which had appeared on her face earlier that morning. But that wasn't what made her freeze, it was his eyes. 

The eyes of the man she'd been unable to save.

The man she saw in her visions.

It makes something in her simultaneously recoil and rejoice. The dual voices screaming in her mind so fiercely, she doesn't notice that he seems suddenly more aware of his surroundings.

Only looking at him again when she notices his scent change from pain to hope.

Kneeling next to him she maintains eye contact, while focusing on injecting peace into her scent.

"You know the comatose look, not a fan." She blurts out, hand coming to cover her mouth in shock after she registers what she said.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. That was incredibly crass of me, I'll shut up and just keep you company until Derek comes back." She says quickly, sitting on the window sill as comfortable silence fills the room.

It's promptly broken by her sneezing.

And sneezing.

Again, and again; until the final count is twelve when she finally stops.

"Shit."

Rubbing her hands over her face, she tries to figure out what is causing her reaction. Walking around the space slowly, breathing deeply, she quickly realizes it's something on Peter.

"What the hell."

Kneeling next to him again she looks him over, finally locating a small pendant hanging from his neck. Reaching up to touch it, she recoils when her hand is burnt by contact with the string.

"Faen!"

Looking at him more closely, she sees that the skin under the string is inflamed, swollen, and in some areas blistered.

"Fuck it." She mumbles.

Grabbing hold of the piece, while gritting her teeth, she tugs it over his head and hurls it out of the window. Turning around just as a pretty red headed nurse enters the room.

"Hello." The woman says. Surprise and irritation coloring her scent, while Peter's drops into rage and panic.

_Something is very wrong here._

"Who are you?" Stiles asks politely.

"Jennifer, I have been Peter's nurse for six years now." 

_Lie._

Blanching Stiles turns around to look out of the window, straining against the urge to _hunt, tear, rip._

"Sorry, I... don't do so well in hospitals," she finally forces out. Hand coming up to rest on the cool glass, as she catches her breathe. The scent coming in from outside helping her contain the urge to murder the nurse.

"That's okay." The woman's falsely sweet tone makes Stiles feel sick. "I will have to ask what you're doing in here."

Laughing nervously Stiles turns around, ducking her head as she looks at Jennifer shyly. "How rude of me. I volunteer, heard this guy doesn't get visitors... if I over stepped please tell me, I'd hate to get in the way." She says quietly. 

Jennifer's scent changes again, as she walks over to Peter. Her hand resting on his shoulder pressing into the skin where the pendant had been. His grunt of pain making the other woman frown in fake concern, while her scent shifts to smug satisfaction.

Stiles hates her.

She's hurting her alpha.

Something in her rears up in horror and fury, as she can do nothing but watch as he's hooked up to an IV stinking similarly to the pendant.

"What's that?" She asks, tilting her head innocently. While internally she wonders what the woman's innards would look like hung out as Halloween decoration.

"Just some pain medication."

The agony surrounding Peter screams otherwise.

Finishing with her task, the nurse turns to look at her with a thin, empty smile stretched across her lips.

"It was nice meeting you, have a good day." 

With that said, the woman drifts out of the room like a malevolent specter; carrying an aura of death with her.

Rushing to Peter's side Stiles rips the IV from his arm, leeching as much of his pain as she can before collapsing on to the ground. Her back resting against the wall as she tries to stop her vision from spinning.

Hearing him groan, her head snaps up.

Watching wide eyed Stiles feels a grin grow when Peter slowly moves his head to look at her directly. 

His shining eyes hold so much gratitude that she wants to weep, she doesn't feel worthy of it. Nor of the pack bond she feels snap in place, while they sit there staring at each other.

"Well darling... we have a lot to talk about." He finally says. Voice breaking as he uses it for the first time in six years.

* * *

Blinking at him in shock, Stiles watches him chuckle wearily.

_Why is he so calm?_

"I'm an alpha." He says simply.

"Wait, did I say that out loud?" She asks, grimacing in embarrassment when he nods slowly. Amusement filling the air around him, creating a swirling contrast with the pain still emanating from deep within.

"And I have had six years to contain my fury." He finishes pleasantly, a deep timber in his voice hinting at countless deaths echoing after the words are spoken.

 _He is dangerous,_ and Stiles loves it. 

Here her alpha sits, hurt, weakened, and he is still able to make her very being tremble in fear. 

He's strong, and she feels an instinctive urge to trust him; one she lets herself give in to.

"What's your name?"

"Stiles... well that's my nickname,"

"I want to know your real name." He says. Eyes beckoning her to do as he wishes, and simply reveal the truth. For the first time in years she's tempted to.

Biting her lip, unsure. She looks up at him questioningly, gaze sliding across his scars, eyes, nose, mouth. Taking in everything, as she ponders the urge to trust someone with her identity.

"... Mieczysława, my name is Mieczysława Stilinski." She finally says.

Taking the leap, trusting the man.

Hoping it won't come back to bite her later.

_He already did._

Closing her eyes tightly she counts to ten and back before she opens them again, feeling calmer, more in control. He is pack, she has to trust him.

"I like it," he finally says. The blatant approval a nice balm on the scarred remains of her past pride, years of derision over her name finally feeling worth it. 

Idly Stiles wonders if it's because he's pack, or because he's the man she couldn't save that his approval matters so much to her. She can't tell, but she finds she doesn't really care. _He likes my name._

It's a silly thing to be hung up on, but she can't shake the giddiness which clings to her as she considers his words.

 _'I like it'._ Three words. Inconsequential most of the time, a simple way of expressing approval; yet it makes her beam at him in her joy. The light sweet scent which floods the room temporarily stifling the unpleasant scents that have plagued Peter for six years.

Looking up, she sees him wince as he tries to move his arm. 

"Are you alright?"

"No." He says, straining against the pain ricocheting through his body.

"What's wrong?"

"Wolfsbane."

Staring at him in horror, Stiles's eyes flicker briefly to the IV.

"Is that what was in..."

"Yes."

"That's killing you." She whispers, nausea slipping through her veins like oil.

Shaking his head he winces, "diluted... enough... just, burns." He says, voice hitching as he tries to fight the effects. 

Shuffling forward Stiles grabs his hands and drains more pain, the black veins freaking her out a little as she replicates her earlier instinctive actions. 

"Better?"

"Thank you," he sighs. Slumping back in his chair, a relieved groan slipping past his lips.

"Why are you still in hospital?"

"I'm being kept from healing properly, as you have no doubt already guessed." He shifts, a hand coming up to rest against his side tentatively. 

"The IV from hell kinda gave it away." She snarks.

"Quite. Laura and Derek where far away and too young to look after me."

"So you've been stuck in purgatory since the fire?"

"Yes."

"Well that ends today."

"How do you mean?"

"Derek's of age, he can take you home. You no longer have to be in this place."

A myriad of emotions flash across his face, too fast for Stiles to decipher. The faint flush of hope which surrounds him she reads clearly.

Clearing her throat she looks out of the window, taking in the blue sky and songbirds flying past. "Derek's living with my dad and I, you'd get the attic... if you join us."

"How big is it."

"Big."

"That's helpful." He says, a smile taking any of the bite from his words.

"I will have you know, I am the epitome of an upstanding citizen." She states.

His incredulous, laughing gaze makes her crack. Falling into giggles, while he chuckles softly.

"I mean it. About you staying with us, I mean. I'm not letting you stay another moment with that psychopath lording over you." She promises, determination making her voice deepen. Sounding rounder, more mature. It makes her blink in surprise.

"You're serious." He says wonderingly.

"Of course I am. I don't make promises I can't keep." She says, offended at the doubt leveled her way. Even when she understands it.

Emotion quickly flickers across his face, the space between them suddenly charged with energy she can't name. Gazing up at him wonderingly, she sees him tense.

"Hello Derek." He says quietly.

Stiles's head snaps to the side, spotting her pack mate stood awkwardly at the entrance to the room. The steaming cup of coffee in his hand forgotten, as he looks at them like he's seeing a ghost.

Rolling her eyes at their dramatics, Stiles gets up and stalks over to Derek. Latching onto his arm she gently leads him to where Peter is sat waiting patiently.

"Sit." She says forcefully, barely keeping a smile off her face when he complies instantly.

Looking at the two for several drawn out moments, she allows a smirk to curl on her lips when they squirm slightly.

"Talk." 

Hand coming up when it looks like Derek will protest, she sends him a stern look of reproach.

"Talk." She insists.

Leaning on the wall next to the window, she watches the two look at each other warily. Like two predators about to fight to the death, she thinks wryly. A small huff of laughter escaping her as she settles in for the show.

_This'll be interesting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Stiles and Derek fight was very different from my usual thing. There's a reason for her reactions to lies, it's in her past. One of the things she has to deal with. It simply got heightened by her becoming a wolf.
> 
> Peter is not as put together as he appears. Think of this as more a moment of lucidity in a lake of horror. He is so used to abuse and pain that this positive thing allowed him to regain (at least for a while) his grasp of everything. I'm not saying he's insane, just very primal/instinctive most of the time. He'll have to struggle to get properly reacquainted with his humanity.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!


	8. Operation Free Alpha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone!
> 
> I'm changing the show timeline a little here. The full moon was supposed to happen on Day four of the story. However, I decided to make it Day five. Mostly so I can have some things happen which would have been cut otherwise.
> 
> This chapter was great to write, the pack bonding is one of my absolutely favorite parts of this story. It's so cool to be able to explore it properly (looking at you show...). It also took AGES. My brother's birthday came up, and I got a splash of inspiration for my novel, so my attention was split. Sorry for the late update, hopefully it won't be a problem next chapter...
> 
> Warnings:  
> after effects of torture  
> (I wasn't sure what to add here, if you spot anything which should be included please tell me.)
> 
> Enjoy!

_POV: Peter_

The amusement hanging around Mieczysława is distracting. Her scent wafting soothingly through the room, eliminating the foul stench of hunter which has clung to everything for years. It makes his wolf want to purr, the feelings of pack, and calm; battling his want to hunt his missing "nurse."

Sighing he looks away from the window, breathe catching in his throat at what he sees. _Derek._

His nephew sits sullenly next to him. The frown marring his face so similar to Talia's that it hurts to look at him.

Shifting slightly, Peter barely keeps a groan of pain from escaping his throat.

His body _burns._

The Wolfsbane creeping through his veins slowly being neutralized at a rate so slow he can feel every second of it. The pain drain slowly fading, leaving his body numb, cold flushes flashing through him; while heat roasts his insides. 

Wincing he grits his teeth. _Better get this show on the road._

"You look different," he finally says. The pain in his scent telling his Beta's more than he'll ever be able to verbalize.

Derek doesn't say anything; instead looking pointedly at his scarred face, eyebrow raised in silent disbelief. The familiar expression makes a amused huff leave Peter.

"Touché." He concedes, head tilting in acknowledgment.

"What happened to Laura?" Derek asks. Voice devoid of emotion as he stares blankly at him.

_Shit._

"She had her throat slit." He says, throat tight as he thinks of her in pain.

"By you?" 

"I... I don't know." Admitting it makes him grimace. 

His niece, body broken... dead, and he doesn't know if he was the one who killed her. It makes his scent shift, dropping into a stifling mix of confusion and regret. Mieczysława clears her throat, deliberately drawing attention to herself.

Looking at them with a neutral scent and expression, she stays silent for a beat. Before finally saying "this is getting us nowhere."

"What do you mean?" Derek asks.

Pushing off from the wall she gives them a completely deadpan glare. 

"I mean that we have no way of knowing if Peter killed your sister. So, put it aside, focus on getting our alpha out of here; or I'll break your legs." She says, a small deliberately bland smile curling the corners of her mouth.

Peter feels a smile tug at his face, _she's brilliant._

The halfhearted glare Derek sends his way looks less sever than his earlier frustrated grimace, it makes Peter feel hopeful. 

_Maybe the pack isn't as fractured as I thought?_

The possibility is thrilling.

"Stiles is right. Me remaining here will only have a negative impact, especially on the pack bonds." He says quietly.

Derek simply glares, a sharp nod showing his grudging agreement.

Seeing his hostility, Mieczysława walks up to him and smacks him in the arm. It makes his wolf purr in contentment.

_She's defending us._

"Behave." She says softly. "Both of you."

"Yes ma'am." Both men say simultaneously.

Groaning in pain Peter looks up at the two younger wolves wonderingly. "Can we focus on getting me out of here?" He asks, voice hoarse and weak.

Looking at him despairingly, Mieczysława nods quickly. Glancing at Derek before rushing away to find someone to start the process.

The awkward silence which settles over the both of them is stifling. Uncomfortable.

It remains unbroken until their pack mate returns, a pretty, curly haired, nurse trailing behind her.

"Derek, this is Melissa; Scott's mom. Melissa this is Derek Hale; a close friend of mine." She says, voice chipper and sweet. It's like a balm on his soul, after the years of deranged screeching he's been subject to.

"Pleasure to meet you Nurse McCall, Stiles has only had good things to say about you." His dour nephew says, transforming suddenly into a charming young man. It's startling.

"Thank you." Melissa answers, smiling pleasantly at Derek. "Now Stiles tells me you want to have Peter released into your care. I do hope you know the work involved in providing for someone with such serious injuries?" She asks, switching from flattered mother to serious nurse in seconds.

It makes Peter's respect for the kind smelling woman grow.

"I do. My sister and I were preoccupied with sorting out the family estate, and we were too young to care for him anyway. But now... I found a private clinic which specializes in his injuries, I have a place reserved for him, and would very much like to have him out of here by lunch." Derek says firmly.

"Wow, okay... there's paperwork to fill out, but we should be able to have everything sorted by then." She says, smiling bemusedly when Stiles does a little dance out of excitement.

His pack mate's energy is enticing. Making the wolf scratch at his restraint impatiently, it wants to be near her **.**

Unfortunately for it, there's enough man left in his head to prevent that happening. His scent shifts with his struggle becoming tinged with spice and sugar. Both Derek and Mieczysława shoot looks his way, one amused the other curious.

He wonders what else his pack mate might be curious about... _no bad, stop, don't go there._ The human part of his mind orders sternly, making him groan lowly as his head aches terribly.

Shit.

Closing his eyes he focuses on his breathing, trying to calm the swirling storm raging in his head.

It doesn't work. Not truly, more putting a temporary pause to the chaos. 

It does however give him time to relax a little.

By the time he's fully in control, Mieczysława is gently nudging at the tentative pack bond linking them; trying to get his attention.

Opening his eyes he is met with her worried gaze.

"I'm fine," he mutters. A small smirk stretched across his face as he tries to reassure her. The displeased look she levels him with tells of how unsuccessful his attempt is.

"Melissa and Derek are done, we can take you home now." She whispers lowly, head bent to be next to his ear. Her breathe fans across his skin, making him shiver unconsciously.

"Well... lets not keep them waiting." He answers, voice calm. Scent filled with his joy.

Beaming down at him, she helps him slowly stand. Transferring him into a wheelchair reeking of his nephews scent.

With that she starts to wheel him out, Derek joining them in the corridor. 

"Everything go okay?" Mieczysława whispers pointedly at his nephew. He can't see what the other man does, but it must be nod; since her scent drops into a soothing state of relaxed triumph.

_Things are starting to look up._

Spotting his "nurse" in the corridor, watching them, it takes all his considerable will power not to chase after her.

The fury in his pack mate's scents suggest they are likewise inclined.

_Soon, we'll all hunt together._

* * *

_ POV: Stiles _

The tension between Derek and Peter makes her want to bash both their heads into the wall. Repeatedly. 

Sat in her living room the three of them have been resting in an uncomfortable limbo, and she hates it.

"Right. I've had enough of this, Derek you and I are going to fix the attic. Peter, you are going to rest." She orders impatiently, looking at the other wolves sternly. Their shocked expressions make her want to smile, but she controls the urge. 

"Now." She states irritably. Turning on her heel and stalking out of the room.

Heading up the stairs, she can hear Derek follow after her; this time she does let herself grin.

_Good sourwolf._

Pulling down the ladder Stiles coughs slightly when a small puff of dust falls onto her head. "Ew!" She complains, shaking her head sadly. Derek's amused snort makes her huff resignedly.

"Come on," she calls over her shoulder; quickly climbing up into the dark, musty, room.

Turning on the light she takes in the big space wistfully, squeaking in surprise when Derek rests a hand on her shoulder. His rumbling chuckle at her reaction makes her smile reluctantly.

"Don't do that dude!"

"Don't call me dude."

No, I like calling you that." She says petulantly.

"Why?" He asks incredulously.

"Your reaction is hilarious." She admits quietly, a mischievous smirk settling on her face. Looking forward she crosses her arms sighing, "we have work to do." 

Derek hums in agreement next to her as they take in the mess.

There are boxes everywhere, old broken pieces of furniture covered in white sheets litter the floor, in the corner there is a big wardrobe, and all of it is covered in dust. 

Releasing a breathe quickly, Stiles steps forward. Walking over to the far wall, where two big curtains stretch from floor to ceiling. Flinging them open, she blinks rapidly when sunlight suddenly streams down onto her face. Opening the huge windows she takes a deep breathe, filling her lungs with sweet smelling dust free air.

Reluctantly pulling back, she turns to look at the other wolf, "lets make this place alpha ready." 

So they start to sort through the boxes, putting them into two groups: basement bound, and trash... most of it is trash.

Pulling a sheet of a big table, Stiles is surprised to find a chest placed under it. Made of cherry it has metal vines travelling up the front, twisting into two buckles holding it closed. Pulling it out from underneath the table, she places it on it carefully. Running her hands along the intricate designs wonderingly.

_It feels like mom._

It's radiating the same subtle energy her mother always gave of, even near the end... it makes Stiles freeze in shock when she realizes why it feels familiar. Tears uncontrollably start to well in her eyes, as she looks at what is undoubtedly a relic of her mom's life.

Scent having dropped into a sorrowful one, she is not surprised when Derek appears hovering behind her. Instantly she flings herself into his arms, snuggling into his chest.

Seeking comfort from her pack.

His scent gives away his concern, but instead of questioning her he simply holds her close; waiting patiently for her to tell him what's wrong.

"It's my mom's." She finally chokes out, gesturing at the chest.

Wiping her eyes roughly, she blearily looking up at the strong man anchoring her.

"Do you want to open it?" He asks her softly, waiting for her to nod jerkily.

"Okay, lets do that then." He says, pushing her forward gently. 

Clearing her throat, annoyed at how it feels tight, Stiles looks down at the chest anxiously. 

_What do you contain?_

Reaching out hesitantly, her breathe catches in her throat when the buckles are undone. 

Opening the chest slowly, she stares down at the contents in confusion.

"What the fuck is that?"

Looking back at Derek questioningly, she is startled to see him pale, shivering. 

"Derek?" 

Her question seems to snap him out of the daze he was in, as he's suddenly looking at her piercingly.

"Your mom was a witch." He states bluntly, "a powerful one at that."

"What? That's impossible." Stiles stutters, shaking her head in denial.

"Is it?" 

"Yes! I'd have known if she was..." looking back at the chest she whispers "magical."

Memories come unbidden: the garden being in full bloom in December, a scratch healing by the next day because her mom "kissed it better", food staying warm hours later, tea never turning cold... more and more memories flood back. Never anything overly strange, most easy to ignore, but all painting a picture of something odd.

"Holy shit." She whispers breathlessly.

Reaching out, she runs her hand over the leather bound journal resting on top of all the other things in the chest. It's warm, soft to the touch, and smells of jasmine and mint. Like her mom.

Thumb brushing the embossed image of a fox on the front, she jumps in surprise when the room flashes blue.

"Derek?" She calls questioningly, spinning around. 

He's not there.

Turning back she freezes when she realizes she's no longer in her attic.

She's by that tree again, watching her mom kneel before it murmuring quietly.

Hands digging into the dirt, she's shimmering slightly. 

Stumbling forward Stiles collapses next to her mom, looking at her wonderingly.

Reaching out, she's surprised when a hand grabs hers before she can touch her mom's shoulder. Following it she looks up at a towering statuesque woman. 

"Who are you?" She blurts out wonderingly.

Rather than be offended by her rudeness, like most people, the other woman smiles at her warmly. Like she's a delight to behold... it's unsettling.

"I've gone by many names across the ages little one, but you will best know me as Nemeton." The woman answers softly, voice reverberating throughout the entire clearing even though it's nothing but a whisper.

"I don't... I've never heard..." 

"No, but you will." Nemeton interrupts gently.

Looking at the woman holding her in amazement, Stiles stands unsteadily.

"Why am I here?" She asks, eyes shining sadly.

"Oh little one, it's not a punishment. Simply the easiest way to communicate with you." Nemeton says sorrowfully, softly cupping her cheek. Wiping away a tear which is slipping down her cheek unthinkingly.

"But mom..."

"I know little one, I know. Would that I could, but my power is not what it once was. I require a conduit, your mother understands this and has agreed to help."

"Why?" 

"Because you and I, and all your pack, your friends are in danger." 

"What do you mean?" Stiles asks, alarm making her gape at the being before her.

"There are those who seek to strip my power, to wipe out your pack... whatever it takes. You have to listen to me, can you do that Mieczysława?"

Fearful and desperate, Stiles can do nothing but nod hesitantly at the question. The smile she receives for doing so fills a void in her heart which has been cold since her mom died.

"You've done beautifully so far, truly. But your pack needs to grow, and it needs to grow fast. A small but strong one may be enough most places, but not here, not with me reduced."

"How can we... how can I change this?" Stiles asks worriedly.

"I..." for the first time Nemeton looks frustrated. "I can't say specifically, my magic prevents me... I can however tell you to trust your instincts. No matter if they scare you on occasion, they'll never lead you astray. Do you understand?"

Swallowing nervously Stiles nods.

"Good, sweet girl, now go. Bond with your pack, and make it grow." Letting go of her, Stiles watches the being turn to walk towards her still chanting mom.

"Oh and Stiles."

"Yes?"

"I think you'll find that if you put your mind to it, almost anything is possible."

With those words Nemeton fades away, leaving Stiles alone and confused.

* * *

Gasping Stiles sits up, eyes shooting open in shock.

Looking around she realizes she's sat on her bed, Derek leaning on the wall watching her worriedly.

Suddenly he's at her side, hands hovering over her right arm questioningly, she only nods at the silent offer of a pain drain.

Glancing down she can't contain her gasp at the sight which greets her.

The entire length of her arm is wrapped in tattooed vines and runes... shit.

_I'm in so much trouble._

"You okay?"

The question startles her, making her jolt uncomfortably. Head shooting up to look wide-eyed at the other wolf, mouth open in shock.

Lost for words she simply shakes her head slightly.

"Scott and I finished fixing the attic." 

His words make her blink, head trying to understand them yet failing.

"You... and Scott?" She asks falteringly.

"Yeah, him and Peter are downstairs right now. We made dinner, want to join us?"

Swallowing nervously she nods, trying to stand only to find her legs unwilling to support her. Derek seems to have predicted this since he catches her immediately, scooping her up bridal style.

Huffing in amusement, she looks at him laughingly.

"You do this way to often." She says.

His questioning look makes her grin. 

"Carry me, I'm not delicate." She elaborates.

"No you're not, simply a danger magnet." He says jokingly, a teasing smirk settled on his face as she squawks indignantly. 

"Wow, way to call me out." She complains, coughing lightly as they head down the stairs. 

Shaking his head, at her ridiculousness Derek remains silent as he carries her to the table where the other wolves are sat, waiting.

Setting her down gently, he disappears into the kitchen. Leaving her with two curious pack mates. _Great..._

"Hi." She greets quietly. Being met with two unimpressed glares, the synchronicity makes her wince. The scent coming of both men is one of concern, and incredulous anger (although Scott also reeks of resignation).

"Hi?" Scott parrots back, looking at her like she's missing all her considerable brain power.

Wincing she shoots them a unconvincing smile... "yeah."

"That's all you have to say?" Peter shoots at her, voice sounding less strained than it was in hospital.

"Well, what do you want me to say? I can't control when I pass out." She says shortly, temper flaring aggressively.

"I don't know Stiles, maybe you can." Scott says.

"What do you mean?" She asks.

"What he means sweetheart, is that it might not be the best idea for you to touch anything radiating mystical energy." Peter deadpans.

Blushing Stiles looks down at her hands, embarrassed. 

"It felt like my mom." She mumbles sadly.

"That is why we're not currently shouting," the alpha replies dryly. "We know you were simply trying to connect to your mother's past."

"It worked, if that's any consolation... I saw her." 

Scott's stunned expression makes her smile slightly.

"I'm happy for you sweetheart," Peter mumbles quietly. Voice dropping to a more soothing pitch.

Finally registering the nickname, Stiles feels a blush creep up her neck. Happiness flooding her scent as she refuses to look at the older wolf.

Glancing out the window she clears her throat distractedly. "Full moon's tomorrow," she says quickly. Ignoring the laughing look Scott shoots her way.

_Idiot._

"Yes, I should be able to keep up with you all." Peter says.

It makes confusion race through her, overpowering her embarrassment; as she glances at him questioningly.

"You two and Derek are going on a run in the preserve. I should be able to keep up, but if anything happens he'll be enough to keep the both of you in line." He explains, a touch of finality in his tone screaming that it's an order not a request.

Before she can try to argue anyway, Derek comes back. Carrying a huge bowl of spaghetti, and a bottle of coke. Looking at Scott he nods towards the kitchen, signalling something which makes the younger wolf scamper out of the room.

"What was that?" Stiles asks, a small smile slipping onto her face.

"He's still a little skittish around me." Peter says, a devilish smirk curling at the corners of his mouth.

"Let me guess, you've done nothing to calm him." She says blandly, eyes sparkling in amusement.

"I'm offended by that accusation sweetheart," he states simply.

"But you're not denying it." She retorts, smiling broadly when Derek chokes on a laugh.

"No... I suppose I'm not."

Shaking her head fondly, Stiles looks at him with fake disappointment. "What ever will I do with you?" She asks jokingly.

The smirk which lights up his face should be illegal, "I can think of a few things." He practically purrs. 

"Shut up." She snaps instinctively, flushing bright red.

Both Hale men start to laugh at her reaction, for once looking unburdened and carefree. It makes her grin reluctantly.

Just as they start to calm down, Scott walks back into the room, holding four cups and a bowl of ice. "What's so funny?"

His question just makes the two Hale's laugh harder.

"Great." Stiles grumbles jokingly.

Spotting the lost look taking over her brother's face, Stiles takes pity on him. "I said something not realizing it was full of innuendo, our pack mates decided they were actually hyena's and can't shut up about it." 

Scott's knowing grin makes her want to disappear.

"Don't start." She says wearily as he sets everything on the table.

"I didn't say anything."

"No but you were thinking it." She mumbles.

"Anyway, lets eat." She says, hoping that the promise of food will distract them from teasing her. It does.

_Boys._

Snorting at the thought, she digs in. Eating until she feels she can't fit anymore food in her, the others do the same. 

Somehow there's still pasta left over, staring at the bowl incredulously she turns to looks at Derek in wonder.

"How?"

"Magic."

"Are you incapable of giving a proper answer?" Scott asks.

"I think he's being serious," she whispers lowly at the other wolf.

"Seriously?" He chuckles.

"No, I said that just for the hell of it." She says, giving him an entirely unimpressed glare.

"Sorry." He says sheepishly.

"Idiot." 

Peter chuckling makes them both look at the Hale wolves sat across from them.

"What?" They ask simultaneously.

Peter and Derek exchange looks of amusement, before turning to grin back at them silently.

Huffing in annoyance, Stiles starts to yawn tiredly. Glancing at Scott she can see he's in a similar state. 

"Okay, we need to sleep." She states loudly. Grabbing hold of her brother, she starts to drag him up the stairs. Looking back at the other wolves she smiles shyly.

"Night guys." 

"Goodnight sweetheart," Pete says kindly.

Derek shoots her a concerned look, before finally mumbling "sleep well Stiles, Scott." 

The obvious care they feel for her and Scott makes a warm, content feeling build in her stomach. Smiling at them one last time she heads up to her room, Scott loyally following after her.

Collapsing onto her bed, she curls into his side.

"You okay Stiles?"

"Hmmm?"

"You've been quiet all evening."

"I'm pretty sure the Hales would disagree." She snorts.

"They don't know you like I do," he counters quietly.

"Just tired." She admits.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, everything will be fine Scott. I promise." She says absently, wrapping her arm around his middle.

Scott silent for so long she thinks he's fallen asleep.

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"You know you can trust me right?"

Twisting so she can look him in the eyes, Stiles smiles sweetly. Reaching up to brush some of his hair out of his eyes gently.

"Scott, I don't trust anyone like I do you. Hell will freeze over before we're ever torn apart." She swears.

Neither notice the small pulse of energy which shoots out of them, encasing the space around them in a faint smell of ozone.

"What would make you doubt that?" She asks, hurt coloring her scent.

Sighing Scott looks at the wall behind her. "Finding out that the supernatural is real." He finally answers.

Spotting the questioning look on her face he pulls her closer, hugging her tightly. 

"This is all terrifying, brilliant sure. But people drift apart, I wasn't sure that this wouldn't finally be what... anyway it's a lot to handle, relationships have been broken over less."

_That fucking bastard._

It isn't often that Stiles wants to kill Scott's dad, but this makes her sorely tempted.

"Scott you're not your dad." His flinch tells her that he doesn't believe her. "You're not, and you won't make the same mistakes he made."

Swallowing harshly he looks at her softly. "Thanks Stiles."

Smiling faintly she focuses on her love of him, grinning when his breathe hitches.

"Anytime," she says kindly.

"Night Scott," she whispers. Lying her head back down on his chest.

"Night Stiles."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the end of another chapter...
> 
> The story is starting to speed up a little, some key people will be showing up soon (although I won't spoil who). We got more Scott content, and let me tell you I've fallen in love with writing him. He's absolutely adorable.
> 
> Feel free to comment, I'd love to know what you all think!


	9. Necessary Violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott regrets his life choices, and the Hale boys can't help being dramatic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm back.
> 
> This story has officially been continued, my brain kept going blank whenever I tried writing this chapter... it was incredibly irritating! I hope everyone's been having a great time, and that this update is a welcome surprise.
> 
> Warnings:  
> I don't think any apply this chapter, but if anyone wants something added just say so in the comment section.
> 
> Enjoy!

Scott's POV:

Listening to Stiles’s heartbeat slow, as she drifts into sleep, is mesmerizing. The sound ringing in Scott’s ears, as he lies still next to her. It should feel wrong, twist his gut, but it doesn’t. Instead the sound draws him in, and lulls him into a semi-conscious state. He should get up, join the two Hale werewolves waiting for him upstairs. But he doesn’t want to. He should go to sleep, rest his aching body.

He should, he should, he should…

He hates that there’s so many things he SHOULD do. He wishes he could simply do what he wants.

Shaking his head, trying to dislodge the thought, he stands.

Stretching tender neck muscles, making things click into place in his back. The pull of his t-shirt on his neck is a reminder that he needs to buy some that fit better.

Glancing at his sleeping friend, he can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips.

She looks at peace, no longer burdened by pain she refuses to share with him. It chafes that she still bottles her emotions, keeps them bubbling beneath the surface. But he’s found that expecting any different will only lead to disappointment.

Sighing, he leans down and shifts the blanket. Tugging the sheet into place around Stiles, ensuring she won’t wake cold.

Leaning back he hums quietly, watching her curl around a pillow which smells like him.

Grinning slightly, he leaves the room.

Her scent chases after him, almost as if she’s trying to beckon him back to the warm, safe, confines of her bed.

Closing the door carefully, he trudges towards the attic ladder. Climbing it reluctantly, he is greeted with the sight of two tense wolves.

 _Oh for fucks sake_ … he thinks. A groan slipping free before he can control it.

“You’re both grown men, act like it.”

The dual growls sent his way make his hackles raise. A snarl curling his lips, as his eyes flash bright amber.

“Enough,” he barks. Anger laces the word, pushing more power into the command then he initially intended.

It makes the older wolves turn to look at him in shock, a nice change from the feral behavior they were exhibiting. Stifling a smug smirk, he looks at them unimpressed.

He’s waiting.

Sure enough, they shift back. Sheepish frowns marring their faces.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“We have a lot to discuss,” Peter says. Which, yeah vague… it’s only the fact that he’s an injured alpha that keeps Scott from saying something scathing (and probably regrettable).

Acrid irritation pools around him, souring the air, making his nose burn. It takes a second for it to register that he can smell his own emotions. Blinking in surprise, he pushes the revelation aside. Stiles needs him, and that means he’ll have to suffer the Hale men’s company.

“Why isn’t Stiles taking part in this discussion?” he asks. Arms crossing in front of his chest, as he lets the tenuous hold on his emotions loose. He’s pleased to see it makes the Hales recoil. She’s pack, and they’re withholding information.

Derek’s the one who answers.

“Because she won’t like what we’re going to suggest.”

Snorting, he looks at them incredulously. “Please tell me you don’t think she has anything against necessary violence?”

The glance they share makes him groan.

“You’re both idiots…” he mutters. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, as he tries to stifle the growing headache.

“It’s not so much the violence… as the person doing the maiming.”

“What do you mean?”

“You,” Peter says bluntly.

Spotting his blank expression, Derek sighs. “She’s protective, overly so. We think she’d put up a fuss if we asked you to do something potentially dangerous.”

“Inflicting damage on another person counts as dangerous. You can drop the potentially.” Groaning, he rubs the back of his neck. Trying to loosen the tension building there, failing miserably. “Who, where, and why?” he asks.

“Allison Argent, on the way to school, we want to see if you can integrate yourself into her life.” Peter’s blunt words make him blink in surprise.

“You do realize that the chance of her knowing anything is slim to none right?” he asks. Suddenly uncomfortable to be discussing anything with the two men.

“We know. But if you can make her your friend, then when she inevitably discovers the truth she might not end up going completely off the deep end. Which would be useful, there’s already far too many insane Argents running around,” Peter drawls.

Coughing, Scott looks at the floor determinedly. “I can see why you didn’t want Stiles awake for this. She considers Allison a tentative friend after she helped her.”

“We know,” Derek says. His tone screams how much he doesn’t like it, but his scent shows resignation.

 _Oh good, they know to expect Stiles’s insane loyalty already… there’s hope_ , he thinks.

“Wait… if you know Stiles is building a friendship with her, why have me do something drastic like injure her?” he asks.

“Partially to speed up the bonding process.”

“And the other part?”

“We want to see how her family reacts, how she reacts,” Derek says.

 _There it is_ , he thinks.

Silence falls. It’s heavy and uncomfortable, and he feels no need to break it.

The two men had pulled him from Stiles’s side, when she was unconscious, to demand he meet them behind his best friends back. To say he’s not amused would be an understatement.

Looking at them for a long moment, he nods sharply. Before turning to head back to bed.

“Where are you going?”

Sighing, he turns back to look at them tiredly. “Bed, some of us are mortal and require rest.”

“But we have more to discuss,” Derek says.

“No we really don’t,” he refutes. A frown marring his face, as he takes in the elder wolves posture. “You’re both tired, I’m dead on my feet, and Stiles is asleep. We are going to sleep, and then I’m updating Stiles tomorrow.”

“You agreed to talk to us,” Peter points out.

“And I regret it. Stiles is practically my sister, I’m not going to lie to her. Especially for the two of you,” he mumbles.

“What is that supposed to mean?” There’s an edge to Derek’s voice, a feral growl curling his lips.

Straightening properly, Scott looks him dead in the eyes. “That we might be pack, but I don’t trust either of you.”

Turning around he climbs down the ladder, a faint ‘goodnight’ slipping past his teeth as he reaches the bottom.

Slipping into Stiles’s room, he smirks.

She’s facing the door, sprawled across the sheets like a cat. It’s a comforting sight, and a normal one.

Careful not to wake her, he lies beside her. Grinning despite his previous irritation when she immediately clings to his side, purring. Hand carding through her hair, he huffs in amusement when she whines. Head automatically following his hand when he tries to draw it away. Cradling her gently in his arms, he feels his eyelids grow heavy and his limbs loose.

Giving up the fight to keep his eyes open, he nuzzles her hairline. A slight smile gracing his face when her hand latches onto his shirt.

Raging emotions calm, he breathes in her scent. 

Lilacs, coffee, and soap, being the last things he registers fully before sleep catches him in its web.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scott's POV!!! He's a cinnamon roll and I love him. 
> 
> I hope you liked the chapter.   
> Please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comment section!


End file.
